The God-Bothered
by PinkFreud
Summary: Sequel to 'Good Neighbors'. Just as Loki and Darcy are settling into their new life together, SHIELD asks them to take on an assignment that turns out to be much more than it appears.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, old friends and new! Welcome back to my weird mind-palace. Just to go over a few things: if you haven't read ''Good Neighbors'' yet, then you should probably do that first, or this story really won't make a lot of sense, sorry. This one starts off approximately 8 months after GN ended. Ok, here we go again...**

* * *

_What we call the beginning is often the end_

_And to make an end is to make a beginning_

_The end is where we start from_

** -T.S. Eliot**

**Stark Tower**

Tony Stark collected artwork, among other things. He enjoyed the feeling of owning something that another person had spent so much time pouring energy and emotion into. Some of the paintings and sculptures that he owned were fonder to him than others, though, and it was always nice to add a new piece to his collection. Today, he was about to show off a painting that had recently been shipped to him from Paris, and he had invited his colleagues from SHIELD—with the exception of Nick Fury, who could sometimes be a bit of a buzzkill about things, in Tony's opinion.

The billionaire pulled off the curtain to reveal his newest acquisition. There was dead silence in the room for a moment, then the sound of Jane Foster's wine glass shattering on the floor. Tony smiled proudly, ignoring this. ''Isn't it fantastic?''

Thor nodded. ''It's very good,'' he admitted.

''The translation of the title is 'Naked Woman With Dagger.' ''

''That's definitely accurate,'' said Natasha with a nod. The large oil painting was indeed of a beautiful, naked woman lying sideways on a bed. In her hand she held a long knife with an intricate handle.

''Her...face is familiar,'' noted Steve Rogers. ''Very good,'' said Stark, trying to contain his earsplitting grin.

Jane groaned. ''Mr. Stark, this is just...inappropriate.'' Tony heaved a sigh. ''Does _nobody_ appreciate good art anymore?''

''I like art,'' the scientist insisted. ''Just not when the subject is a close friend of mine.''

''Hey, she's a friend of mine too. So is the artist.''

''God, I hope there's not like a dozen nude paintings of her floating around Europe...'' the astrophysicist gratefully accepted the new glass of wine that had been brought to her by a server in black tie. Stark shook his head. ''No, apparently most of them have already been sold to private collectors.''

''That doesn't make me feel any better,'' mumbled Jane.

''It should, now both the artist and the subject are as rich as Croesus, not that they needed to be. I'm almost jealous. Rich and bohemian and fabulous, hanging out all day in their Parisian sex dungeon...'' The billionaire sighed.

''Please,'' said Jane, taking a very large sip of wine, ''please stop talking.''

''I think it's a metaphor,'' spoke up Bruce Banner, still staring thoughtfully at the painting. ''It's about vulnerability and strength. The sharp violence of the dagger juxtaposed against bare skin...''

''Nah,'' Clint Barton shook his head, ''I think they're just the kind of people that like to have knives in bed.''

Thor stifled a laugh, Jane shot him an evil glare. ''Hey, don't knock it til you've tried it,'' mumbled Natasha. Steve looked utterly scandalized. Tony just kept smiling.

* * *

**Cimetière Montparnasse, Paris**

The graveyard stung her nose with the over-sweet smell of flowers. The miles of headstones and statues made her sad—though not mournful, exactly. Nobody in this cemetery belonged to her, she was unfamiliar with the names—except for the famous ones-or the remains now given back to the earth. It was that same deep, tugging sadness that everyone feels, even just a little, when walking where the dead lay. But for her, it was so very different now, death seemed farther and farther away, like a dream that shrugged itself off easily in the light of a new day. Everything in the world was different now.

Unconsciously, Darcy pressed a hand against her heart, feeling the ever-steady pounding beneath her fingertips. Loki had once told her that her heartbeat sounded to him like rain falling onto water. That was before. Now it was stronger, it seemed, stronger than rain, fortified through many deaths and rebirths. Outwardly, she hadn't changed much. Maybe her eyes were a deeper, brighter blue; perhaps her skin was softer, maybe it even seemed to glow just a little in the right light. She felt different, though, like her spirit was also stronger now. As were her abilities. Loki continued to teach her everything that he knew—they'd often stay awake late into the night, sitting on the bed reading page after yellowed page of runic text, making things move, bend, disappear and reappear. Music and laughter would sometimes drift into the room from down on the street below if the windows were open, maybe the smell of food from the cafe, the sound of people living their own brief lives. Darcy liked it when she could hear them laughing.

Her senses were still heightened almost to a fault—she could hear a dripping faucet two floors down, feel rain in the air long before it ever arrived, while the skies were still clear. Yet she had grown almost used to this—you could get used to anything if you had enough time, she supposed.

* * *

**SHIELD**

''You know exactly who we need for this,'' Natasha Romanov told Nicholas Fury in a firm and decisive tone. A stack of very troubling files lay spread out on the desk in front of him. ''You've read the case details, you know that they'll be able to handle the assignment better than anyone. They can see things that the rest of us can't, let's face it.''

Fury raised an eyebrow at her, considering this a moment before replying. He looked down at the case files again, sighed, and then said, ''Those two are probably the most unpredictable people I have ever met. And while I actually do agree with you about them being right for this, I certainly have my doubts about bringing them back onto active duty. It's been far less chaotic around here with them gone, and you said yourself that they're perfectly happy where they are. So what makes you think that they'll even agree?''

''I don't know,'' admitted Natasha. ''But it's worth asking, don't you think?''

The Director sighed deeply. ''Fine. Ask them. But I would advise you to be careful what you wish for.''

* * *

Now it was a breezy, slightly chilly gray Tuesday. It looked like it was going to rain. Darcy was having a lazy day, hanging out in bed surrounded by books and her computer. She glanced at the time and then logged into Skype. After moving to France, Darcy had kept in contact with the Black Widow, much to Loki's dismay. She couldn't help it—it was nice sometimes to talk to someone from home, even if that someone was a Russian super-assassin.

''Hey, girl, hey!'' Darcy chirped as Natasha's face came into view on the laptop screen in front of her.

''Hey yourself,'' the redhead responded with a light smile. ''I have a question for you.''

''I don't like the sound of this...''

''Just hear me out. You don't have to agree to anything, but it would be very much appreciated if you would consider what I'm asking you.''

''Appreciated by...''

''Your former employer. And myself, by extension.''

Darcy groaned. ''And here I thought you just wanted to chat. I should have known better.''

''I told you never to trust that woman,'' came Loki's voice as he walked into the room, stark naked and still dripping wet from a shower. He opened the closet and pulled out a pair of black pants and then disappeared into the adjoining room.

''Tell him I said hello,'' Natasha said with a smirk, overhearing. But thankfully unable to see.

Darcy followed him with her eyes, then turned back to the computer.

''I will. Ok, just for shits and giggles, ask away.'' She made a show of sighing deeply. ''What can we do for the illustrious SHIELD?''

''A certain group, based in New England, has come onto our radar. We're concerned about some of their practices and would like to investigate further.''

''What kind of group?'' asked Darcy, reaching over to the night table and retrieving her mug of coffee.

''Speaking frankly, they're a cult. They own a large portion of land in rural Connecticut. At least 7-13 people live there at any given time, but that number changes periodically. They identify themselves as 'seekers of enlightenment and the restoration of the spirit and body to its full potential.' ''

''That doesn't sound so bad,'' she shrugged, taking a sip. ''A little enlightenment and restoration never hurt anybody.''

''This place isn't exactly an ashram, Darcy. Over eight people have vanished without a trace, last seen on the grounds of their compound. Three bodies were recently uncovered in the surrounding area. We're almost positive that the group was behind it, but we don't have enough proof at this time.''

''How is this a job for SHIELD at all?'' Darcy asked skeptically. ''If they're a cult, doesn't the FBI have a division that handles this sort of thing?''

''Sorry, Mulder and Scully are busy this week,'' Natasha said with an eye roll. ''It's not just your run of the mill cult. There's something much darker and more insidious at work out there. Most cults center around a charismatic leader and a set of delusional beliefs. In the end, they turn out to be just that—promises given in order to secure loyalty among the members. However, in this case it seems as though their beliefs might not be so delusional at all, and that could be a very dangerous thing. Please just take a look at some of the files I'm sending to you—you guys don't have to agree to anything, but we are asking for your help, if you will give it. If you agree, once you get back I can brief you on your full assignment.''

''Alright,'' Darcy agreed, nodding. ''Send me the files, I'll take a look. But Loki is definitely going to take some convincing,'' she added, glancing over into the other room.

Natasha sighed. ''Use your feminine wiles.''

''Sure, because that always works.''

''You'd be surprised.''

After signing off with Natasha and then retrieving and printing the files from a secure email account that had been created for her, Darcy spread out her yoga mat on the floor and began what had become a daily routine of contorting her body into various poses. She was actually getting quite good. Truth be told, she'd started the practice mainly to become more flexible during sex. Loki seemed to favor rather adventurous positions that required a good deal of balance—like the weird parts of the _Kama Sutra_ that most normal couples never attempt. However, after a few weeks she found that daily yoga gave her a sense of well-being and balance, helped to center her. She shifted up on the mat into downward facing dog as she considered the Black Widow's proposal.

''I like that one,'' came Loki's voice from behind her. Upside down, Darcy could see the appraising smirk on his face as he stared at her. ''Yeah, yeah,'' she mumbled, smiling as she eased herself back down and then sat up.

''What did she want?'' he asked, meaning Natasha. He poured himself a glass of wine from the bottle on the shelf.

''There's some kind of assignment that SHIELD wants our help with. We don't have to do it, she was just asking.''

''There is no 'just asking' with them,'' he sighed darkly, seeming annoyed and yet somehow resigned. ''I knew it was only a matter of time.''

''Yes it was. But we have nothing _but_ time, baby. Can't we at least think about it?''

''What is the assignment?'' Loki demanded warily.

''It's some kind of murderous cult thingy that needs investigating. Natasha sent me some files. I printed them out but haven't gotten a chance to look at them yet.'' Darcy hopped to her feet and walked over to where the printer was, retrieving the small stack of paper lying there facedown. The first thing to assault her vision was the image of a very bloody and strangely mutilated corpse. ''Yikes,'' she muttered. ''Can you pour me a glass of wine?'' she called over to Loki. ''Like, a big one?''

''What is it?'' he asked, looking mildly amused as he poured her drink, then brought it over to her. The amused look quickly devolved into one of utter disgust as he saw the picture in her hands. ''Oh dear, that's _vile_,'' he noted, taking a large sip.

''Gimmee,'' she said, pulling the glass out of his hands. ''I guess this is what we'd be getting into...'' she flipped to the next photo. ''Aaand, it only gets worse.''

''I'm absolutely not doing this,'' the god stated in a firm tone.

''Don't even pretend that you're grossed out by blood, you've had sex with me on my period.'' She paused a moment, setting the files down. ''Speaking of which, am I going to have one of those for like, three thousand years?'' Darcy made a face at the thought.

He rolled his eyes. ''Yes, you're going to be...fertile for a very long time, I'm afraid.''

''Now that our bodies are like...more compatible, should we be doing anything special to like, prevent conception?'' She blearily wondered why in the hell they hadn't talked about this earlier.

''Our bodies were _compatible_ before, as I recall,'' Loki said, giving her a sideways smile. ''Your risk of pregnancy is much the same as it ever was. However, none of your pills will work now, due to alterations in your hormones and your metabolism. Don't worry, I'm careful. I always have been, _obviously_. You won't get pregnant.''

''Oh. Ok.'' Darcy laughed a little, inexplicably nervous, suddenly. ''That went off topic really fast, sorry. Um...'' She picked up one of the photographs again. ''I have to admit, this has me a little intrigued, despite the ick factor. And it would be nice to see everyone.''

She looked so prettily hopeful that Loki caved, despite his better judgement. He knew that eventually she would want to go back and visit everyone. Hopefully now this would be a good opportunity to get it out of her system. ''Alright. Tell her we'll do it.''

''Yaaay!'' Darcy happily captured his lips in a kiss. ''This is going to be good, I have a feeling.''

* * *

That night, it rained. It was a gloomy, pretty, silvery rain. ''It would be a perfect night for some violin music,'' remarked Helen from where she floated near the window. Their resident discarnate spirit was a young woman, perhaps around thirty. She appeared as a vague, near-translucent gray outline, like an old and fraying black and white film on a projector. Always wearing the very same dress that she'd worn the day she'd killed herself, over eighty years before.

''You would think that,'' Darcy mumbled. She was curled up in the squashy armchair by the fireplace, a blanket around her shoulders, perusing the files again.

''I don't much like the look of those pictures,'' the ghost added, inclining her head slightly towards Darcy. ''I really don't think that you should leave.''

''Helen, we're coming back. We're not going to be gone that long.'' She turned the page to read about the alleged leader of the group, a man named Lugh Retnick. As soon as she saw a picture of him, a familiar feeling climbed along her spine, and then something happened that hadn't in awhile: a shifting flare of double vision assaulted Darcy's eyes, accompanied by a very cold, very uncomfortable tremor. Whoever this man was, there was definitely something otherworldly about him—he wasn't from here. He was from someplace much darker.

The spirit didn't say anything for a moment. Then her wispy voice came. ''There's a strange tree, far out in the field.''

Darcy looked up. Unconsciously, she drew the blanket more firmly around her shoulders. ''What?''

''Blood on the branches, blood in the soil, the roots drink it up.''

Darcy couldn't help but shiver a little. She was used to this, though: Helen tended to be a little melodramatic and maudlin.

''What tree are you talking about? What field?''

Helen fell silent. Darcy was the only one that she actually spoke to or appeared to, really. Loki could sense her, but she become more of a poltergeist when he was around, choosing to communicate with him through a series of knocks and bangs and taps on walls and other various surfaces, or by simply tossing things across the room. It wasn't really personal, Helen simply didn't trust men all that much, which made sense, given the circumstances surrounding her demise.

The rain continued on into the night. Helen only seemed to grow more and more restless the longer Darcy looked at the files, and so she tucked them away safely in a folder on the shelf. Which was just fine, their contents seemed to be growing more and more unseemly by the minute. Loki was sitting in the corner by a tall lamp, sketching quietly. He usually drew in the evenings and painted during the day. Darcy crept over behind him, resting her chin on his shoulder and looking at the paper.

''Is that me?'' she asked, even though she could tell that it was as she stared at the image in light charcoal, a woman with long hair walking in a cemetery, a thougthful and far-away expression on her face. He nodded.

''You've never been there with me, though,'' she noted.

''Yes, I have,'' he replied quietly.

''Why didn't you say anything?''

''I just wanted to watch you. You look very sad and beautiful when you're alone. Something hidden comes out in your eyes. It's intriguing.'' Loki paused a moment, then asked, ''Why do you go there so often?''

Darcy shrugged. ''I like walking in cemeteries. I always have. It's not like a creepy thing, they're just...peaceful.''

''We don't have anything like it on Asgard. That's not what we do with the dead.''

''Yeah, you guys cremate...a lot of people do that here, too.'' She thought about it. ''There's also like...mummification, or cryogenics, maybe.''

The pencil stilled on the paper. ''What are cryogenics?''

''It's a way of preserving someone after they 'die'—except they're not absolutely and completely dead. It's usually rich or important people that do it, they think that maybe someday in the future, whatever they died of will have a cure and then they can be brought back and live again.''

''Like the soldier?'' he asked.

''Who? Oh, Steve. Yeah, that's sort of what happened to him. Except that he didn't intend on being frozen and then brought back.''

''Wouldn't it be rather dreadful, though?'' Loki wondered aloud. ''Suppose that you were woken up, and cured, but the world would have changed so—all of the people that you knew in life would either be very old or dead—what would be the point in waking up at all? And then what about when you die the second time?''

Neither one of them said anything after that, she just kept her head resting quietly on his shoulder, and stared at the drawing.

* * *

It kept raining for days, right up to the night before they left to fly back to New York. Helen simply stood by the window and cried for hours. Darcy was trying to pack some of her things, and so she quickly downloaded some violin music to her iPod and played it loudly in the hopes that the spirit might be appeased or at least distracted for a little while. Or that it might drone out her crying. When ghosts cried, Darcy had unhappily come to discover, they didn't sound like humans. It was more of an otherworldly, pained keening that sounded not-unlike wind screaming through an abandoned house.

Loki entered the room, covered in splotches of paint. Just as he did so, a small green vase that had been sitting on the top of one of the bookshelves suddenly flew at his head. Quick as lightning, his hand shot up and he caught it. ''She's still not thrilled about us leaving, I take it?'' he said dryly.

''Very much _not thrilled_, yes,'' Darcy muttered.

''I don't like it any more than you do, Helen,'' he called out. ''I promise that we'll be back soon.''

Helen didn't say anything in reply, just sobbed harder. Sometime later she finally stopped and disappeared, slinking away to wherever she went when she wasn't haunting them. Their flight was going to be leaving in a few hours. Darcy had wanted to take another walk through the cemetery, but because of the rain she hadn't gotten a chance. That was fine, she told herself, they'd hopefully be back within the next month and the weather would be nicer then, anyhow. She picked up her suitcase.

* * *

''Well, here we are again,'' she muttered tiredly as they walked through the airport after a very long flight. Though Darcy was exhausted, she had to admit that it was nice to be back in New York, that she would soon be seeing her friends. Though it still seemed strange somehow to refer to Tony Stark as her 'friend.' The billionaire stood at the end of the terminal, impeccably dressed and grinning widely.

''You didn't have to come and meet us,'' Darcy said, setting down her bag. ''We could have gotten a cab or something.''

''I literally had nothing else to do this afternoon, kiddo,'' he responded, scooping her up in a tight hug. ''Come on, I've got the car waiting.''

''Everyone is coming over to my place a little later,'' Stark told them, once the three were settled in the back of the large and comfortable vehicle. ''They can't wait to see you.''

''I'm sure,'' Loki muttered.

''But if I were you,'' Stark added, gesturing at the god with his glass of Scotch, ''I'd steer clear of Dr. Foster for awhile. She wasn't exactly thrilled with your latest piece.''

Darcy cringed a little. She should have known that Tony would automatically show everyone the painting that he'd bought from Loki. It was actually supposed to have been a bit of mischief, a kind of tongue-in-cheek thing, reminding everyone of the unnecessary debacle that Loki's drawings of her had caused so many months before.

''What's she going to do, slap me again?'' he asked, amused. ''She'd better be careful, I might start to enjoy it.''

Darcy shook her head at Loki, sighing and clucking her tongue. ''You'd better behave yourself. We just got back, try not to incur anyone's wrath until tomorrow, at least.''

**Stark Tower**

Nothing seemed to have changed too much upon their return. Everyone looked much the same as they had before, and the city was still busy and indifferent. Darcy was greeted warmly by Bruce and Natasha. Steve was out on an assignment, and Thor wasn't on Earth at the moment, so all in all it was a small group. Spotting a familiar face, Darcy called out ''Jane!'' and ran over to her friend and former boss. Though the astrophysicist smiled and wrapped her in a hug, she seemed a bit stiff and formal, like she was bothered by something. Darcy tried to ignore it, telling herself that Jane was probably just consumed with whatever project she was currently working on. Still, the scientist remained uncharacteristically quiet as the younger woman chattered on about her months away.

Pulling out her iPad, Darcy flipped through the pictures of some of the many trips that she and Loki had taken. ''Here's Tokyo. Oooh, and here's us next to some Mayan ruins.''Then an image slid across the screen of her standing next to a very striking raven-haired woman with bright green eyes and a familiar smirk. ''Who's that?'' Jane asked.

''Oh! That's just...''Darcy blushed a little and flipped past the picture, which had been taken one particularly _interesting_ evening when Loki had shifted into his female form. Jane eyed her curiously. ''Just...something different...hey—there's the big heads on Easter Island...I wonder if they were part of the Network...speaking of which, here's us in England by the 'Gosforth Cross', the fake one, I guess. I like it better than the real one. Aaaand there's Prague. And Paris—this is where we've been living. It's really pretty. My French is still terrible though.''

The scientist gave a small, tight smile in response to all of this, and then went over to the other side of the room to talk to Bruce Banner for a minute. Darcy felt her stomach begin to hurt a little bit as she observed her friend's very chilly demeanor, sure now that it did in fact have something to do with her return. She watched as Jane left the room and slid into the women's bathroom, decided to follow her. She stood at the sink, fixing her hair and reapplying a small amount of lip gloss. ''Hi,'' Darcy offered. The astrophysicist turned, a flat and almost angry look on her face.

''So what the hell are you now, actually?'' Jane demanded warily. ''Some kind of goddess or something?'' Darcy was a little taken aback by this, but she blinked and sighed and tried to give an answer as best she could, though there was an unhappy, prickling feeling behind her eyes, the distant threat of tears. ''It's complicated. I'm not sure, exactly. But yeah, I guess...or at least I'm more like Thor or Loki.'' She shrugged. ''Apparently, I'm going to live for like 5,000 plus years...heal faster than a normal person...''

Jane turned away. She was very, very quiet for a moment, just staring into the mirror. ''Does that bother you?'' she finally asked, in a strange voice.

''Why would it bother me?'' Darcy responded, a little too quickly and sharply, not liking something in her friend's tone.

''Oh, I don't know. I thought that maybe the thought of watching all of your friends grow old and die while you stay exactly the same might take some getting used to, but you seem to be handling it fine.'' Jane screwed the cap back onto the tube of gloss, tightly bottled aggression in her movements.

''Why are you being like this? What is this really about?'' Darcy realized with dismay that she had begun to chew her fingernails. She hadn't done that in months, the habit suddenly disappearing on its own after she and Loki first arrived in Paris.

''You just _disappeared_, Darce,'' Jane snapped.''You and him. You never even said goodbye to me, not a word of where you were for months and months! I hear all these strange stories...you saved the world, you're some kind of reincarnated mythical person that can travel to different dimensions. I didn't know what to think. I missed the whole thing. I...fell asleep and you were just my assistant, my best friend. And then I woke up and the world almost ended again, and you were gone.''

Tears began to build in the corner of Darcy's eyes. ''Jane, I'm sorry. It was...it was just easier that way. I know that maybe it seems selfish to you, and maybe it was—but after everything that we went through...Loki and I just needed to be alone together. We just wanted some peace, some time to decompress and sort through everything. Can you understand that?''

Jane's eyes softened just a little. ''I can. But I was worried about you. I've been worried about you from the beginning, from the first time I ever saw you with him.''

Darcy opened her mouth to say something but Jane rushed on ahead. ''I know what you're going to say, and I don't care. We both have the right to our opinions. And despite whatever may have happened, whatever good things that Loki may have done in the past year, I will never trust him. I will never like him. In fact, he disgusts me. The thought of you with him makes my skin crawl. And it's not just me. Stark and some of the others may have eased up on Loki a little bit, but that's more for your sake than anything else. It's so cliché. 'Beauty and the Beast', that's what they call you guys. But it isn't cute, and it isn't funny, and everyone knows that, deep down. I'm sorry, Darcy, but nobody really likes your boyfriend.''

''It doesn't matter.'' Darcy whispered. A tear slid down her face, and she brushed it away.

''That's right, it doesn't matter,'' replied Jane, a heavy melancholy in her voice. ''The damage has already been done. After the next several decades it really won't matter, because we'll all be dead and you two will have the rest of your five thousand years to be _alone_ together.'' Then she turned and left.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you for all of the reviews and follows, I'm glad that you're all liking this story so far! Here is the next chapter for you!**

* * *

Darcy was rather numb as they returned to her old apartment, the one that Tony had been keeping for her. She had expected to feel something more upon arriving back there, some sort of comfortable familiarity, but there was nothing. It was just a space, just walls and a floor. She dragged her suitcase glumly into the bedroom and set it down with an abrupt _clunk_ that echoed. Loki followed her. ''You've been crying,'' he noted.

''It's nothing,'' she replied dismissively. The god was very tight-lipped, seething with anger. They hadn't even been back a full day and already someone had hurt her. This was exactly why he had been hesitant about their return: Darcy had changed. She had been through some impossible alterations, and it would not be near as easy as she had anticipated to slip back into her old life, a place where she no longer fit.

''Who?'' he demanded simply.

''It's _nothing_,'' she said again, pulling off her coat and tossing it onto the bed.

''Don't make me go looking for it. Tell me.''

She sighed, heavily and sadly. ''Jane...she...she wasn't very happy to see me...and I just keep feeling like I did something wrong, even though I know I didn't. It hurts.'' Darcy chewed her nails. Loki quietly reached out and pulled her hand away from her mouth, holding it. Then he brought her fingers to his lips, kissing them. His tongue darted out to lick along her index finger. She shivered. He stared deeply into her eyes, as if he was considering something, then released her hand.

''Take your clothes off and lay on the bed,'' he instructed in a low voice that sent heat pooling deep inside of her. Then he turned walked into the other room. Darcy did so, stripping and settling herself down, heart pounding in curious anticipation. Loki did not return, so she simply lay there, waiting. Then she felt his words in her head. ''_I want to try something_.''

''_What_?'' she asked.

''_Just relax. Trust me. Open your mind to me completely_.''

She closed her eyes and concentrated on only their mind-link, trying to expand it. Then she felt _him_, more and more, almost as if he was moving through her entire being. In her blood. A small sigh escaped Darcy's lips. Then her left hand started to twitch, on it's own. Surprised, she looked down at it. ''_Trust me_,'' came the words again. Then her hand lifted, moved. It reminded Darcy a bit of those times when the Well had possessed her, though not nearly as terrifying. It was actually rather pleasant. Knowing that she wasn't in any danger allowed her to open up more to whatever was going to happen. Her hand slid down between her legs and found her clit, starting to rub in slow, torturous circles.

Darcy wanted to laugh but then found herself moaning out loud instead. Her right hand moved now, plunging two fingers inside of her. The fingers of her left hand picked up rhythm, and the other pumped those digits slowly in and out. Her hips canted up, moving back and forth as the tension continued to build. Loki kept changing the motion just to drive her crazy, she was sure, every time she felt herself getting close he would slow down. It forced Darcy to relinquish control, let go, forget about everything else but what was happening to her, knowing that she was experiencing a kind of closeness with her lover that most would never even hope to achieve. That was what all this had been for. Moments like this when they existed only for each other.

In the other room, his eyes were shut tightly with concentration. Loki would have loved nothing more than to be watching Darcy, but he'd never attempted this before and couldn't be distracted. He was also completely overwhelmed with sensation, overloaded by it. On a tactile level, he could feel what her hands felt—the soft slick heat of her, so familiar, but through their mind-link he could also feel her pleasure. This put him at a weirdly advantageous position. The two fingers inside of her angled and curled forwards, hitting just right while the other hand kept working her clit. And then there was that final, delightful second that tipped her over the edge. Darcy came apart quickly, crying out ''oh god, oh _fuck_ yes!'' and thrashed back and forth. She closed her eyes and let it wash over her and then finally abate. She felt him recede a bit from her mind, she could feel her hands again under her control.

Her whole body hummed, felt wonderfully drugged and yet charged with electricity. She was unbelievably aroused still, throbbing and damp between the legs. Slowly getting up off of the bed, Darcy crept into the other room quietly, let her eyes drink in the sight of him sprawled in a chair, dark hair falling across his pale forehead, lips parted, breath coming quickly.

Loki was temporarily overcome by how erotic an experience it had been. He was also almost painfully aroused, his erection straining at the front of his pants. Then she suddenly appeared, moving into the room, naked, hair wild and skin deliriously flushed. Darcy sank down onto her knees in front of him, dragging at the zipper. ''You should teach me that trick so that I can do you,'' she said with a smile and he shuddered as she pulled out his cock and sank her lips down around it. Burying his fingers in her hair, Loki out a deep groan of encouragement as she began to work at him relentlessly. He wouldn't last long, but she wasn't going to stop. He clutched at her, threw back his head as he came in a sudden spasm. She swallowed every drop, then looked up at him lovingly.

''Thanks,'' Darcy whispered. ''What for?'' he asked, his fingers still threaded through her hair. Naked and kneeling between his legs, she was absolutely beautiful. ''For reminding me about us,'' she answered.

* * *

The next day, they had to meet with Natasha at SHIELD for a briefing on their new assignment. As Darcy and Loki walked down the hallway toward the elevators, they passed by Jane's office. The door opened and a young woman walked out carrying a stack of files. She had the weary look about her eyes that suggested she'd been doing long hours of data entry. Jane must have gotten a new assistant, Darcy realized. Of course, that was to be expected. She was probably running the poor girl ragged. Darcy almost wanted to smile, but the smile felt so remarkably bittersweet that it collapsed upon itself and disappeared, leaving only a bad taste in the back of her throat.

If nothing else, the Black Widow looked remarkably happy to see them. Though Loki had said over and over again not to trust her, Natasha had been there during some very difficult moments over the past year, and she'd always kept any promises that she made. She motioned for them both to sit down.

''I spared you guys a meeting with Fury,'' the assassin said with a half-smile. ''I'm going to be the lead agent in charge of this, so hopefully things will run smoothly, and then you both can take off again. I do want to say thank you for coming back and taking on this assignment. I recommended you both to the Director because I think that you are exactly what we need in this particular case.''

''And why is that?'' asked Loki in a bland tone.

''Based on past precedent—some of the things that I personally witnessed while working with the two of you. I pride myself on being able to read people very well.''

''So, what kind of cult are we going to be dealing with, exactly?'' asked Darcy.

Natasha searched for a file on the tablet in front of her as she explained, ''They call themselves the 'The Restored Ones'. From what we've gathered, they think that they can communicate with other worlds, speak to gods. And also that the gods choose their bodies to use as vessels.''

''Vessels for what?'' wondered Darcy. This wasn't seeming particularly strange to her yet, ironically enough.

''That's what we're trying to figure out,'' the Black Widow replied. ''The three bodies that were found near the property, the ones you saw in the pictures I sent—they were confiscated by SHIELD and so the findings never appear on any official reports. But there were certain distinct...characteristics which we felt warranted a deeper investigation.''

''What kinds of characteristics?''

''Of the non-human variety.'' The redhead set the tablet down and folded her hands.

''This is nonsense.'' Loki began eyeing the door.

''It's _not _nonsense,'' Natasha responded evenly. ''We know for a fact that these sorts of genetic alterations aren't impossible, they've happened before.'' She looked right at Darcy. ''Human beings can sometimes be...changed into something more. And I don't just mean you. Banner, the Captain, even Tony...it can happen. What we want to know, is _how_. Each alteration is different, occurs from a different source. Banner had his gamma exposure. Steve had the serum, Tony the reactor. But of all of them, you are the only one who was changed by something...supernatural.''

''It's not supernatural,'' insisted Darcy, feeling oddly offended. ''Just because we don't have the precise scientific terms to explain how it happened doesn't mean that we never will.''

''Still. We asked you both for help because you have a very unique understanding of this kind of...thing. We'd like to know how the group is able to do what they're doing. It's possible that they've gotten their hands on some kind of new technology. If that's the case, then we need to know where they've gotten it from. They say it comes from their 'gods.' Now, you know probably better than any of us how that can mean a lot of different things. Loki, you and Thor were once referred to as gods. Maybe that word can simply be taken to indicate something more than human. Not necessarily benevolent, just...bigger. Powerful, advanced. More difficult to understand. We could simply be dealing with a visitation from another world. Not Asgard, but perhaps similar.''

So this group was playing Dr. Frankenstein. Darcy decided that if nothing else, at least it was decently mysterious. ''So what do you want us to do?''

''We want you to go and infiltrate this group. Find out what exactly is going on in their compound.''

''How do you propose we do that?'' asked Loki. He was seeming only vaguely more interested now.

''By doing what you do best,'' replied Natasha. ''Be a trickster. First the two of you need new names and cover stories. This group doesn't just let anyone in: they're remarkably selective for a cult. Luckily, we've been setting up some background for you both—the Restored Ones seem to do quite a bit of communicating on the Internet, just like everyone else. We've been posting on forums and message boards as you, or at least the people that you will be pretending to be, to lay down the ground work and set up a meeting between you both and the group—a kind of audition, so to speak.''

''What are our stories?'' asked Darcy, intrigued. She did have a newly-acquired fondness for role-play.

''You two are married. Your name is Lucy O'Neal, you are a reconstructionist pagan with an extensive background in anthropology.''

''I have no idea what a reconstructionist pagan is, and I only took one anthropology course, ever. It was pass-fail.'' Darcy had skipped that class the vast majority of the time. She'd really have to utilize whatever acting chops she had in order to pretend to be an expert on the subject.

Natasha smiled, patiently amused. ''Most neopaganism that is practiced today is just that—_new_. The practitioners draw on what few primary sources that they have available to them and then fill in the gaps, basically. The fact of the matter is that there's not that much historical evidence to go on, no way to know exactly how the earliest pagans practiced their religion. As a reconstructionist, in your ritual work, for example, you try to get as close as possible to what the original might have been, based on various texts and archeological or anthropological sources.''

Darcy scrunched up her face. ''That sounds like it involves an awful lot of reading.''

''Fortunately, it's reading that you've already done,'' said Natasha, handing her a thick binder full of paper.

''What's this?'' Darcy asked as she regarded the volume hesitantly for a moment before flipping it open.

''Your thesis, complete with full bibliography and index. Apparently, it's been circulating around through some of these message boards and the members seem quite impressed.''

''A fake thesis? Where the hell did this come from?''

''It's not fake, not at all,'' the Black Widow shook her head. ''It was ghostwritten by a SHIELD agent. We have a small division that specializes in document rendering.''

''Wow,'' Darcy sifted through the pages. Thankfully, there was highlighting over what she assumed to be the key points. ''I guess I've got homework again, then.'' She set the binder down on the desk.

''Loki, your name is William O' Neal, you are somewhat of an expert on ceremonial magic and its history. Here's _your_ dissertation.'' Natasha slid an equally large binder across the table to him.

''Must I be?'' he asked, rolling his eyes.

''What is-'' Darcy began.

''There are different branches of it, but basically most ceremonial magic involves the ritual summoning of entities,'' Natasha quickly supplied.

''What kind of_ entities_?''

''Demons, angels, ghosts—it could be anything, really.'' The assassin shrugged.

''So basically he's a necromancer.'' Casting a sideways glance at Loki, Darcy fake-shuddered a little. He rolled his eyes and scowled.

''Something like that. The group is interested in you both because you're unique. Not only do you have impressive academic backgrounds, but you also believe what you write. This makes your ideas very valuable.'' Natasha fixed them both with a pointed look. ''Give the group as much validation as you possibly can, and observe what they do with it. Get the leader to trust you enough to show you what's really going on. Give them the old razzle-dazzle.''

Darcy raised her eyebrows at the ''Chicago'' reference. ''I never figured you for a fan of musicals.''

''I'll have you know that during one of my first undercover assignments, I performed in ''Cabaret'' _and _''Sweet Charity.'' The redhead looked proud of herself. ''Now, we're going to be setting up a meeting for you both and the group for next Thursday. I know that isn't a lot of time, but you guys are good at improv, right?''

''I guess so,'' Darcy agreed, staring witheringly at the thick binders in front of them.

''Ok, then get going,'' Natasha said with a nod. ''We'll regroup here on Tuesday morning and finalize the plans.''

* * *

They left the building quickly after the meeting and returned to the apartment. Darcy had been glancing hesitantly at the door to Jane's office as they passed it, and so Loki had quickly reminded her that they had a lot of work to do. He'd decided that he was going to have to keep her distracted, or else she'd simply start to go down an unhappy self-doubting spiral. Now, she did indeed seem to be engrossed with their new assignment, she was sitting on the couch perusing the large binder that Natasha had given to her.

''Oh, jeez, this is some heavy stuff,'' Darcy groaned a little as she flipped through 'her' thesis. ''I don't know anything about paganism...''

''Polytheism. The worship of multiple gods with different characteristics,'' Loki offered.

''Well, duh, I knew _that_ much, _William_. But it could also involve like...nature and stuff? Oh, who am I kidding, I'm out of my depth. You would think that sleeping with a god would be a prerequisite for something like this but nooooo...'' she trailed off, thinking. Then her eyes lit up. ''Wait! I think I know someone who can help.''

After several Facebook messages were hastily exchanged, Darcy managed to set up a meeting with her former college roommate, the one who could supposedly read auras and astral project. Back then, Darcy had thought she was a bit of a flake. Time had proved this not to be the case—far, far stranger things existed. As luck would have it, she was in the area visiting her family, who lived less than an hour outside the city. They agreed to meet at a coffee shop further downtown, _not_ Starbucks, much to Darcy's dismay.

''Is that what you're going to wear?'' she asked Loki as they got ready. He was elegantly attired in black, as usual. ''What's the matter with it?'' he asked, a sigh in the words.

Darcy paused in brushing her long hair in front of the mirror, turned to face him. ''Why don't you wear something a little less...evil CEO and more 'organic soy chai latte'?''

''I have no idea what you're talking about, and frankly I'd rather keep it that way.''

''Look, we're supposed to sort of be undercover, right? Even for research purposes. You have to look the part of someone who is legitimately interested in these subjects,'' she explained.

''How in the Nine could you possibly gleam someone's interests simply by what they're wearing?'' Loki scoffed.''That's ridiculous.''

''I'm just making a point about perception,'' Darcy offered, holding up her hands. ''A valid point, might I add. You don't have to wear hemp fabrics and Birkenstocks, just lose the scary boardroom vibe. You look too rich.''

Loki sighed deeply, then his appearance shifted and he was wearing a thin gray shirt and jeans.

''That's better,'' Darcy nodded approvingly. ''Turn.'' He obliged her, turning with a scowl. ''Your butt looks _great_ in those jeans by the way. Now we've gotta fix your hair.''

''Haven't you done enough to it already?'' Loki wearily demanded. Darcy was rather opinionated on the subject of his hair. She hated when he slicked it back, and so they typically compromised: he wore it like that at work and when they were alone together he let it go looser and softer, which annoyed him to no end because it kept falling into his face, a look that seemed to make her swoon, for some strange reason.

''It looks weird when you push it back like that, it looks like a bad wig.'' She moved closer, brush in hand, ready to pounce. He pretended to put up a fight, made her work to wrestle him down so that she could drag the brush through his dark hair. ''Fine, you win,'' he said, leaning back against her. She ran her fingers over his scalp. ''Yes, I do,'' she replied with a smug smile. ''See, isn't this better?''

''I suppose we all must make sacrifices,'' he offered with a sigh.

* * *

**Two Hours Later**

Inside the artsy little coffee shop downtown, there was a slight young woman sitting at a table. Her long golden-brown hair was pulled up into a messy bun; she had very interesting features betraying a blended heritage, high cheekbones and almond-shaped hazel eyes. The girl also wore very long earrings that dangled, and a variety of beaded necklaces. ''Hey there!'' she said with a smile, setting down the book she'd been reading once she noticed them approaching. ''Hey Pru,'' Darcy replied, giving her a hug. ''Good to see you again. Logan, this is Prudence Sang, my old roommate from college. Prudence, this is Logan, my...um...boyfriend.'' It still felt like a very strange term, like it didn't match what he was to her. The word felt funny and awkward on her tongue.

Prudence's smile widened. ''Nice to meet you, Logan.'' She shook Loki's hand, then gestured for the two of them to join her at the table. ''So, how the hell have you been? It's been almost two years since we last spoke face to face...you were running around the desert with those crazy scientists—you still doing that?''

Darcy forced a smile. ''Nope, not exactly. I've actually been...doing a lot of writing. And researching.''

''Oh, how cool!'' Prudence bounced a little in her chair. Her long earrings swung back and forth with the movement. ''What are you researching?''

''That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about. I've recently become very interested in neopaganism, and I know that's something you're very familiar with so I was hoping maybe you might be able to...explain some stuff to me?'' Darcy asked in a hopeful voice.

Prudence blinked. ''Well, sure. I mean, I don't exactly know everything.''

''Are you a pagan?'' Loki asked her, seeming almost genuinely interested.

''I'm a Wiccan, actually, I was raised that way. Well, half, I guess—my dad's a Buddhist. But he never minded Selene teaching me everything she knew.'' Prudence shrugged and took a sip from the cup in front of her. ''I've been to lots of events, though, and met people from all kinds of different traditions. Hey, actually, I was heading back home—they're having a small gathering at the house later for the Esbat—that's a full moon celebration. You guys should come with me! You can talk to Selene and some of the others, they know tons.''

''Ok,'' Darcy nodded, after shooting a quick glance at Loki. Prudence's enthusiasm was infectious, and at least this would give her a chance to get some firsthand experience with a subject that she was going to have to pretend to be an expert on.

Prudence's family's house wasn't too far outside the city, it was a very nice place with a large backyard and swimming pool. They were greeted warmly at the front door by a tall, pretty woman with long, honey-colored hair, wearing a loose-fitting shirt decorated with beadwork. ''Oh, good, you brought friends!'' she said to Prudence as she ushered them inside. ''Pru's always been a little sticky about inviting people over in the past.'' The woman rolled her eyes. ''I'm Selene, by the way.''

''Mom, this is Darcy, my old roommate. And this is her boyfriend, Logan,'' Pru introduced them. ''They're interested in neopaganism.''

''Well, you've come to the right place,'' Selene said, smiling at Darcy. Then she looked at Loki for an especially long while, smiling and yet not at the same time. While Prudence led Darcy over to one of the many tall bookshelves and pulled down several volumes for her to look at, Loki took note of the beautiful art prints framed on the walls.

''Here,'' Darcy was handed a small stack of books. ''These are pretty comprehensive, they should be really helpful.'' Prudence cocked her head to the side and studied her old roommate for a few moments. ''You're different,'' she noted, and Darcy raised her eyebrows. ''I mean _good_ different,'' Pru rushed to add, a smile on her face. ''Like...it's hard to explain, like you're younger and older at the same time.''

Letting out a little laugh, Darcy tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. ''It's been a weird couple of years,'' she admitted. ''But I'm happy.''

''I can see that, and I'm glad,'' Prudence said with a nod. ''You always seemed like you were looking for something...I guess you found it. I'm not surprised that you turned out to be a researcher,'' she added. ''Hey, I've got some things I can show you—some crystals, my ritual tools—I'll go get them. Why don't you go and talk to my mom for a few minutes while I do that. She's a High Priestess of her coven, she can tell you pretty much anything you want to know.''

While Prudence vanished into the stairwell in a blur of bracelets and patchouli oil, Darcy wandered into the kitchen and approached Selene, who was going through one of the various jars of herbs on the shelf along the wall. ''So, you've been doing this for a long time,'' she began, and the woman turned. ''I'm just getting into it...I'm wondering if you think it's better to work alone or with a group?''

Selene smiled, opening a jar and pulling out a bundle of something with an incredibly pungent smell. ''Well, it's really about your own heart. Some practitioners enjoy working alone, others crave the energy and connection that comes with group work. It also provides a sense of community. But it can sometimes take awhile to find the group that's right for you.'' Using a knife, she began to cut a few pieces of the aromatic plant.

''I was doing some reading online and I heard about the 'Restored Ones','' Darcy ventured. ''They sounded really...interesting.''

Selene set the knife down. The woman said absolutely nothing for a moment, but something in her face changed, grew tense. Then she said, ''I've always believed that you must choose your own path. But, I am a mother first. Please, there are so many other communities that you could belong to, if you're interested. It's not my place to influence you one way or the other, Darcy, but please, as a friend—stay away from those people.''

The urgent and almost pleading look on her face gave Darcy pause. ''Uh, ok. Thanks...for letting me know.'' She tried to laugh a little. ''I was just wondering.''

''Hey, Darce!'' Prudence's voice called from the next room. ''Come in here, I want to show you something.'' Darcy quickly left the kitchen and went to join her in the living room. Loki was standing in the other doorway now, looking out the window at the large backyard. Selene's gaze flickered over as she noticed him there.

''Don't think I don't know exactly who you are,'' their host began in a low, conversational tone as she moved around the kitchen, pulling out a mortar and pestle. ''Whatever you're really doing, you had better be careful. Darcy mentioned the Restored Ones. Those are dangerous people. Even for you.''

''Why, exactly?'' asked Loki, slipping into the room. ''What are they doing out there?''

Selene narrowed her eyes. ''Meddling,'' she replied, crushing the herb with a not-indistinct amount of venom in her motions. ''Dabbling with things that nobody should touch. My religion teaches respect for nature, and its boundaries. We should be in awe of its mystery, not try to control it, or harness it for our own purposes.''

''What do you think a spell is, then?'' he asked her. ''Isn't that harnessing energy for a purpose?''

''It's a_ request_. Made with the utmost respect and an understanding of the potential consequences.''

''Maybe that's the way it is here,'' Loki replied, picking up a small piece of the plant that Selene had been cutting.

''We're not from the same world, obviously,'' she responded in a clipped tone. ''You look at things like this a little differently. But tell me,'' Selene gave him a lopsided look, ''when you used your power for...less than altruistic reasons, there were always consequences, were there not?''

Loki didn't say anything.

* * *

''Selene,'' Prudence called, setting down the large wooden box that she had been carrying and poking her head around the kitchen door, ''Are you drawing down the moon tonight?''

''Yep,'' came the reply.

''Cool. Ok, let me explain to you what that is,'' said Prudence, seeing the look of confusion on Darcy's face. ''During the Esbat ritual, the High Priestess—that's mom—draws the energy of the goddess down and into her body. It's a very sacred thing. I've watched lots of different people do it.'' She flipped the latches on the lid of the box and opened it.

''What happens then?''

''Well, it's different for each person. Sometimes they shake and get all ecstatic...it's hard to channel that much energy through your body.'' Prudence sifted through the box until she removed what looked like a knife, then a chalice, and then a few more objects.

_You have no idea,_thought Darcy, recalling the violent burning all throughout her limbs when the Well had taken over her. ''So, the High Priestess _invites_ the energy in, right? It's not just, like, spontaneous possession?''

''Oh, no—it's not really _possession_.'' Prudence laughed a little. ''That word has such a terrible connotation. Maybe it's more like channelling, drawing down the energy for ritual purposes. It's temporary, obviously, and all done very respectfully. You're _asking_ the Goddess to bless you with her presence, She's not arbitrarily leaping into your body against your will. That would be awful.''

_Wouldn't it? _Darcy grumbled sarcastically to herself. To Prudence, she said ''Tell me about gods and goddesses.''

''It depends on what pantheon you want to work with, what traditions you follow. 'Paganism' in general is a very broad term,'' Pru tucked her legs underneath her, adjusted her tiny body into a more comfortable sitting position on the wooden floor. ''Polytheism is a better word, and it kind of exists on a spectrum. For example, some practitioners think that when you talk about different goddesses, like say, Isis or Athena, you're actually talking about different aspects of the same force. Different faces of the one same being. And then there's the people who think that absolutely yes, the gods do exist individually, that they're completely real and have their very own wills and distinct personalities. It's all a question of what you believe.''

''How would you know if something was a god or not?''Darcy asked.

''What do you mean?'' Prudence frowned, looking up at her.

''I mean, suppose that one day you met someone and they claimed to be a deity. How would you know if they were telling the truth?''

Prudence let out a huge laugh. ''If I met someone who claimed to be a god, I would most definitely recommend that they get some counselling. I've never honestly had any sort of really personal experience with a god or goddess. I mean, I have my patron deities that I work with and pray to, and I consider myself to have a 'relationship' with them, but that's a completely different thing. They don't talk to me or physically appear to me. It's just...good old fashioned faith, I guess. Maybe they're there, and totally real, just existing in some other dimension, or maybe they're just a part of the collective unconscious that helps me work things out. It never really mattered quite that much to me either way.''

* * *

They stayed there for several more hours to observe a ritual in the backyard that involved a lot of invoking of power within a circle of people. Everyone was very friendly, and the air was pleasantly crisp without being too cold. The natural setting seemed to lend a kind of energy of it's own, a quiet, listening aura. As the High Priestess, Prudence's mother had a very commanding presence. When Selene drew down the moon, Darcy could feel a kind of palpable electricity in the air, rather invigorating tingles of something trailing fingers along her body. There was definitely some sort of energy being channelled and released, it fluttered outward, moving over the ground. Then it was over.

All in all, it had been a very educational evening. After the ritual was complete and the others had departed, Selene patiently and helpfully explained all of the important aspects, like how to cast a circle and then close it, how to invoke the presence of deities respectfully, the significance of the different objects on the altar. Darcy and Loki were both given an open invitation to return any time, but as they departed Selene gave Darcy a hug and whispered 'please remember what I told you,' and when she pulled away there was a very worried look in her eyes; she stood by the front gate and watched them until they were out of sight.

Later, once they were home again, Darcy flipped through some of the books that Prudence had let her borrow. Loki had been very quiet during the whole visit, silently observing everything. ''That was interesting,'' she noted, taking a sip of wine.

''Yes,'' he admitted honestly.''It was. But something tells me that it's not going to do a damn bit of good to prepare us for what we're going to find when we get out there.''

''Yeah, I kinda started to get that vibe too. I asked Selene about the Restored Ones, and she got real weird and told me that I should stay away from them.''

''Well, what did you expect?'' Loki shrugged. ''We wouldn't be investigating these people if all they were doing was saying ''merry meet and merry part'' and holding hands under the moon.''

''No, I guess not,'' Darcy replied. She closed the book, feeling her eyelids grow heavy. It had been a very long day and her mind felt full to bursting with new information. But at least she'd been sufficiently distracted from the unpleasant feeling that started squeezing at her spleen every time she thought about Jane's hurtful words the previous evening.

She looked over at Loki. ''You _really_ look good in those jeans,'' Darcy noted, her tongue darting out to run along her bottom lip. He smirked, reaching over and pulling a book from the stack. '' 'Tantric Sex Magick','' he read the title out loud. ''You know, I don't think that this is exactly relevant to our assignment.''

''It's extracurricular,'' she admitted.

Loki sat down beside her on the couch. A warm smile crept over his features. ''I couldn't stop staring at you all night,'' he said. ''I'm always...so proud of you.''

She smiled. ''I'm proud of you too. I'm proud of _us_.'' Darcy reached over and held his hand, lacing her fingers through his, never ceasing to marvel at how small her hand was compared to his. She leaned against him, feeling warm, still able to see the moon when she finally closed her eyes.

* * *

Darcy hadn't really had a dream that she could remember since their first journey to Asgard, and that was fine with her. Inky, dreamless sleep was peaceful. Now she found herself walking out in an open field. There were woods on either side of her, and up ahead there was a large tree. She could hear singing._ ''Oh dear, what can the matter be? Oh dear, what can the matter be, Johnny's so long at the fair...'' _The sky was very overcast, menacing clouds collecting in the distance. The singing continued. Curious, Darcy moved closer until she could see a little girl standing a few feet from the tree. She wore an old-fashioned looking gray dress and red patent leather shoes that buckled. She didn't say anything or turn around as Darcy approached, just kept singing. Then, abruptly, she stopped and turned.

''They are coming,'' she whispered, no fear in her eyes, just a strange calm. She sounded very old for a child, eerily wise and matter of fact. ''And when they come for you, you'll be sorry.''


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey loves! Here is another chapter for you-it's a little bit shorter, because it's transitional. Enjoy!**

* * *

_There were always questions. To exchange one set for another is no great matter._

** -Tom Stoppard **

Darcy woke up the next morning in a state of mild agitation. Her dream the previous evening hadn't been so much frightening as annoyingly vague. Loki was still asleep beside her and so she quietly slid out of bed and threw on some yoga pants and a shirt. After getting a pot of coffee brewing, she pulled out the spiral notebook that she had bought for her 'homework' and wrote down the date and then: '_dream,' 'tree,' spooky little girl,' 'Johnny's so long at the fair,' _and the final warning, _'they are coming.'_ Darcy was remarkably unperturbed by this. The Norns had given her far more dire prophecies and visions. 'Why can't I ever have a _normal_ dream,' she grumbled to herself. 'Like maybe one where my teeth are falling out, or I'm naked in a class that I never registered for. God forbid, maybe toss a yummy sex dream in there once in a while?'

She poured a cup of the coffee, thinking. A memory now itched at her brain. Before they'd left Paris, Helen had mentioned a 'strange tree, far off in the field.' It was one of those coincidences that seemed to crop up like weeds in her life, the kind that often turned out to be anything but. Darcy went back over and underlined the word 'tree', reminding herself to check back on that bit later.

After doing her daily yoga and getting a shower, she dried her hair and then, while glancing wistfully at the closet, decided to try something. Darcy knew that she didn't have anything close to Loki's ability to shapeshift, but she could work very basic glamours and change certain elements of her appearance, like her clothes for example. She'd done it a few times on Asgard, but hadn't really practiced it too much after their move to Paris. Perhaps she'd always considered it somewhat of a lazy talent—used when she simply couldn't be bothered picking out clothes or if there was a special occasion that warranted specific attire.

Today there was no special occasion, she simply was curious and a little tired of her current wardrobe. Focusing her mind until she could feel tingles of energy collecting on her skin, Darcy formed an exact picture of what she wanted to create, the appearance and the feel of the fabric on her body. Before, she'd created very basic outfits—like on Asgard when she'd conjured up a black bodysuit. But that was easy, it was all one color and all the same fabric. Now she decided on something just a little more intricate—a silky, rather low-cut form fitting top in a deep, forest-green fabric and a pair of black pants. Once she had them perfectly envisioned in her mind, Darcy released the energy with a bolt of thought—a kind of mental _abracadabra—_and there came a brief fluttering sensation, a shimmer of light flickered over her body and then she stood back in front of the mirror and admired her handiwork. ''Not bad,'' she murmured, turning. It wasn't utterly and completely what she'd imagined, but it was definitely close enough.

''Not bad at all,'' came a low voice from behind her as Loki appeared, shirtless and messy-haired.

''Should I maybe like...make a disguise for this assignment?'' Darcy wondered. He shook his head. ''No. I wouldn't bother. You'd be wasting too much energy trying to maintain the illusion, it would be unnecessary. Save your strength.'' He put a hand on her shoulder. ''Just be observant at first. See what the situation calls for, if anything.'' After studying her a moment with his burning green gaze, Loki said, ''I must say, you did an excellent job with this,'' he smoothed a hand slowly down her arm, over the fabric. ''Good detail,'' he added, sounding impressed. ''And I like the colour.''

''I had a feeling you might,'' she admitted.

* * *

They had to dedicate the rest of the day to a very intense study session. Luckily, she'd had more than a few of them in college due to her tendency to procrastinate. Books, pens, notebooks, a laptop, and lots of coffee were essentials, so Darcy set to collecting all of these things and setting them up on the table.

''Did you go to school?'' she asked Loki as she retrieved several highlighters from the bottom of a drawer. He looked up from the binder he was leafing through, his supposed dissertation. ''What?''

''Did you go to school when you were a kid? What do they do for education on Asgard?''

''Thor and I were both tutored in the palace when we were children,'' he replied. ''After awhile it became obvious that he didn't care much for books and that his talents lay elsewhere. So once he had completed a satisfactory amount of coursework, he began to spend more time outdoors with other pursuits and I continued to study, both on my own and with a teacher. Frigga also gave me extra instruction in magic, knowing that I had a natural aptitude for it.''

Darcy was struck with a sudden image of Loki, looking younger, sitting by a window in the palace library, long limbs sprawled out, surrounded by books. All alone. The image was so vivid that Darcy wondered if maybe she'd picked it up from his mind rather than imagined it. Either way, it was a nice picture, just somehow inexplicably sad. Maybe it was the heavy feeling of loneliness that seemed to drench it all.

''What about you?'' he asked her.

''What _about _me?'' Darcy shrugged, pulling the cap off of a highlighter and scribbling on a sheet of paper, the barely-there weak slash of colour indicating that it had long since dried out. ''I went to high school, then I went to college, same as a lot of people. I had no idea what I wanted to do. I guess that's why I took the internship with Jane. Aha!'' she added triumphantly, finally locating a marker that worked and joining Loki at the table.

''And as you say, the rest is history,'' he finished for her with a small smile.

''Yeah. Speaking of history...'' Darcy gave a little groan as she opened the binder containing 'Lucy O'Neal's' thesis. ''Hey, you know we're supposed to be married for this thing, right? So, what's our story in regards to that? Where did we meet and stuff?''

Loki was quiet for a moment, a very thoughtful look flickering over his features as he considered the question. Then he slowly began, ''We met at university when you were in your first year of graduate school and I was finishing my doctoral program. It was October. I was walking across the campus when I passed by the coffee shop where you liked to study. I'd seen you around before, but never got a chance to talk to you. I saw you through the window, just sitting there by yourself and I decided to go in and say hello. We got to talking and learned that we were both interested in many of the same subjects and we decided to meet again.'' Loki folded his hands, looked satisfied with this narrative.

Darcy nodded. ''Ok. I dig it. But I would have had it so that you were my thesis advisor, and after many sexually tense nights in your office spent discussing the occult we finally gave in to our impulses and you had your way with me on top of your desk.'' She smiled, widely and devilishly, seeming very pleased with the images conjured into her mind. ''It was mahogany.''

Loki gave her an approving glance. ''Hmmm. That does sound like us. Fine—that's how it _actually_ happened. But we tell people my version.''

''Fair enough,'' she agreed, still smiling.

''Stop thinking about the desk or we'll never get anything done.''

''Ok, ok.''

* * *

After about half an hour Darcy leaned back in her chair and sighed deeply. ''Ugggh, I need more coffee.'' She looked over at Loki. ''How's yours going?'' He seemed to be deeply engrossed in the reading, was already more than halfway through. ''What's your necromancer-magic like?''

His eyes glanced up from the page to meet hers. ''That's only a portion of it. The material isn't overly dissimilar to some of the magic that I was taught on Asgard. Perhaps there's more pageantry involved—it's more elaborate and requires very specific tools and such. It's also very reliant on precise incantations—speech and language in particular are very important elements.'' Loki paused. ''They always did say that I had a silver tongue.''

''I would not disagree,'' Darcy mumbled, her skin briefly flushing at the memory of all the ways that tongue had been put to good use.

''The writing is a little dry, in my opinion,'' he continued. ''But it is well-researched. What about you, _Lucy_?''

''Mine's ok. It mentions the early Norse pagans a little. I guess it's kind've a survey of different early cultures and their beliefs...what they had in common as far as some kind of organized practice. There's just a lot of them.'' Darcy felt abruptly tired and frustrated.

''You don't have to _memorize_ it,'' Loki told her gently. ''Nobody is going to quiz you on anything. Just get a general feeling for the subject matter. Remember, this is supposed to be something that you're passionate about. Make it seem...organic.''

''Mmmm...organic.'' Darcy rested her chin on her hand and gaze imploringly across the table at him. ''I'm so hungry, can't we take a break and have some Thai food and sex?''

''I don't quite understand your train of thought, but I like where it's going.'' He shut the book firmly.

* * *

She did have every intention of going back and reading more later, but every time she thought about it her head started to ache. The day was beginning its slide into evening, and the wind had picked up a bit; the world outside was mildly chilly and menacing, so Darcy was particularly happy that she was warm and in bed, glad that she'd just taken part in some rather vigorous activity which had left her sufficiently heated. Noticing something on the floor, she stretched and leaned over the side of the bed, picking up the volume that Loki had been studying and flipped it open to reveal pages containing information on 'magickal alphabets.' ''Oooh, fancy letters,'' she whispered, tracing her fingers over the odd script. ''The Theban alphabet...Enochian...'' There were so many different types, including the runes with which she was already very familiar.

Loki sat up and watched Darcy as she read, the way her eyes lit up. ''You do seem to have an aptitude for certain _types_ of languages,'' he ventured. ''Just certainly not any of the more common ones. Come to think of it, how is it that you could talk to Helen? Your French is atrocious.''

Darcy paused in her reading for a moment, looked up at him. ''Helen doesn't speak French. She's English. Like from England. She talks with an accent.''

''I wonder how she came to be there. I'm sure it was all a very depressing story.'' He reached over and plucked the book from her hands. ''No more fancy letters for you right now.'' Loki wrapped an arm around her waist. ''I'm getting terribly lonely over here,'' he breathed into her ear.

* * *

They were a couple of slackers, she decided, but that was alright. They _were_ very good at improvising. Still, there were more than a few butterflies in her stomach as she thought about the assignment that was creeping closer and closer. Darcy had never done anything like this before. Sure, she'd saved the world a little bit and defeated three power-hungry beings who were trying to build the equivalent of a mythical doll-house but that had basically been an accident. Nobody had told her and Loki to do that, they'd decided it on their own, mainly to avoid being trapped for an eternity. This was different. A scary government organization had chosen them both specifically for this mission. And Darcy was secretly terrified that she wouldn't be any good at it.

Loki wasn't worried about their mission at all. He did admit to being ever so slightly intrigued—something that he hadn't expected—but generally he simply wanted to get it over with so that they could leave again. If anything had him at all uneasy, it was the way that Darcy seemed to be reacting to everything. She was so nervous and conflicted, though she tried to hide it. On some level, Loki knew that the real reason she had decided to come back had nothing at all to do with the macabre collective out in Connecticut, and everything to do with closure. He'd watched her, all those walks she took in the Paris cemetery. He knew that she was trying to deal with all of the changes that she had experienced, her new abilities and more so, her new very long life-span. Whether Darcy even understood it herself or not, she'd come back to say goodbye to her friends.

After this was over, once they left, their visits would be fewer and far between as the years wore on, becoming irrelevant to them as they remained unchanged in a changing world. He knew also that eventually they would have to leave Midgard altogether for some time, because it would simply grow too painful for her to remain and watch everyone that she had known succumb to age and die. These were hard things to process, especially for someone who had once been human. Darcy would have a strange kind of survivor's guilt for years. But, thankfully, Loki was good at distracting her. And when the time came he'd drag her all over the universe to keep her busy if he had to, until the inevitable day when she would finally forget at last.

Now that studying had apparently been abandoned for the day in favour of other pursuits, when they finally got out of bed again Darcy had decided that she wanted to watch a scary movie. Perhaps the general tone of the assignment had gotten her in the mood. Regardless, this was fine with Loki. Whenever they watched a scary movie, Darcy would get very cuddly and then eventually wind up crawling into his lap at some point. Loki found these films to be rather ridiculous, but he definitely wasn't complaining about the result. She chose a movie called _The Fourth Kind, _about creatures from outer space who seemed to favour abducting people from a remote Alaskan town. He, of course, quickly deemed the whole thing completely nonsensical. ''Why would you even bother making a film that pretends to be based on fake footage?'' Loki wondered aloud. Darcy was apparently too busy being frightened out of her wits to answer, her eyes had grown buggy with terror and she'd practically attached herself to him like a barnacle with limbs. ''You know this is nonsense, right?'' he nodded at the screen.

''How do _you_ know?'' she hissed back. ''People come here from different worlds all the time. In fact, this is all probably _very_ plausible.'' She shivered.

Loki gave her an exasperated look. ''Nobody from any other world comes here and snatches up random and unimportant Midgardians simply to experiment on them a bit and then drop them back with no real viable memory of the event. It's counterproductive.''

Darcy reached over and pushed 'pause.' ''Not if they want to use us like lab rats.''

He sighed. ''I'm sure if they've been at it for this long, they've learned all they need to know. You're not a remarkably complex people. Infuriating sometimes, yes, but ultimately fairly simple to figure out. If they'd found anything at all useful during these abductions and experiments and what-not, then they merely would have enslaved you all long ago. Yes love, there are visitors from other worlds. But they don't behave that way. Not all that sneaking around. Trust me, if they want to get you, you'll know it. And you'll _certainly_ remember it.''

Strangely enough, this did make her feel slightly better. At least until she pushed 'play' again. After about five seconds, the film was turned off. ''Ok, that's enough for tonight,'' Darcy said, getting up abruptly. ''Time for bed.''

* * *

Loki was awakened some hours later in the darkness to find Darcy wrapped around him, apparently greatly distressed by something.

''Oh, what is it?'' he demanded.

''I woke up and I looked at the time,'' she held up her cell phone with a shaking hand. It glowed, cast them both in a ghostly bluish light.

''I see, what _about_ it?''

She whimpered a little. ''It's the time that it was in the movie when everyone would get abducted. Oh my god, they're gonna come for me too!'' Darcy trembled, holding Loki so tightly that he was nearly strangled. ''They're gonna all come trooping in here speaking Sumerian and then it'll all be over.''

''Sumerian?''

She nodded vigorously. ''Yes, that's what they _speak_, weren't you paying attention?'' Darcy was close to tears.

''Oh, for...'' Loki disentangled himself from her clutches enough to sit up. He called out several phrases in a very eerie, gutteral-sounding language, then made a show of listening to the resulting silence for a response. ''There,'' he said, satisfied. He reached over and patted her on the bottom. ''No Sumerians here. Now go back to sleep. We have to meet with _that woman_ in the morning, and I want to be alert.''

''Fine,'' Darcy muttered, feeling a little silly, but still tingling from the adrenaline jolt that accompanies waking up terrified in the middle of the night. ''How do you know how to speak Sumerian?''

''You're the anthropologist,'' he mumbled around a yawn as he drifted back to sleep. ''You tell me.''

**SHIELD**

''On Thursday morning, you two leave for Connecticut,'' Natasha told them. ''We finalized the details via email. You will check in with me periodically, letting me know how things are going. We will also be keeping an eye on you from a distance. If you become compromised or if at any point I feel that you should not continue, I will pull you both from this assignment and you are to comply, do you understand?''

They both nodded. ''Very good. I just wanted to make that clear since you both have a tendency to go off-book.'' She gave Loki and Darcy a stern glance. ''You are to gather as much information as possible about their practices, including but not limited to enough evidence to link the Restored Ones to the discovered bodies. Loki, you're good at getting inside people's heads—I want you to focus specifically on the leader, this Lugh Retnick. Try to formulate some kind of psychological profile. See what exactly makes him tick—he's the key to all this.''

''All right,'' he agreed.

''Are you both comfortable with your cover stories?'' the Black Widow asked.

''Yes,'' Loki said at the same time that Darcy muttered ''I think so.''

Natasha sighed. ''I have the utmost faith in you both. I don't know _why, _but I'm sure that you will do fine. But just remember, don't get too deep into anything. See you both early Thursday morning for a final briefing.''

As they left the building and walked out into the daylight, sun briefly caught on Darcy's hand, making something shine.

''You still wear that ring,'' Loki noticed softly, looking at the intricate gold band on her finger, the one that Heid had given her. ''Of course,'' Darcy replied. ''It's good luck. Got us out of some sticky situations. I have a feeling that we're going to be facing some pretty dark stuff out there so I'm collecting as many good vibes as I can.''

''Do you remember the defensive spells that I taught you?'' he asked.

She nodded. ''I'm just hoping that I don't have to use any of them.''

''I hope not as well, and I don't think that you will, but it's always good to be prepared.''

Darcy looked back over her shoulder at the entrance to the building, thinking of Jane. She hadn't spoken to the scientist since their rather unpleasant conversation at Stark Tower. ''Do you think that maybe I should…'' she began tentatively.

''I don't think that you should say goodbye-or anything else, for that matter-to anyone until you're ready to. We're not leaving _yet_,'' said Loki, the statement carrying extra weight. ''Not today.'' He took Darcy's hand and led her gently away.


	4. Chapter 4

_You must never run from anything immortal. It attracts their attention._

**-Peter S. Beagle**

**Thursday**

''Why are you dressed like that?'' Darcy asked Loki as they drove. A sign welcomed them to the state of Connecticut. He was back in the dark, elegant clothes that she had once dismissed as 'too evil CEO.' Darcy had to admit, though, it was a look that he could definitely rock, all neat and icy edges.

''Just trust me,'' he said. ''I've been at this game a lot longer.''

She gave a shrug in reply, stared down at her own clothes. She wanted to appear as a serious academic, but also not stuffy, so she'd chosen a knee-length skirt, long-sleeved shirt and jacket. One of her younger female professors in college had worn something similar much of the time, and it seemed to work.

Darcy looked out the window as she drove, observed the scenery which had been gradually changing as they left the city, falling away to open fields and trees, miles of wooded areas. The sun ducked behind clusters of gray clouds and then emerged again. The day couldn't seem to decide what it wanted to be. According to the GPS, they would be arriving some time within the next forty minutes. She took a sip of the coffee in the cup holder next to her, tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. Darcy was actually quite grateful for the opportunity to drive, she didn't often get a chance but it helped to clear her head just a little. If she'd merely been a passenger, she would be even more anxious.

''Don't be nervous,'' Loki told her, noticing her telltale twitchiness. ''Why don't you pretend that we're just going away for a long weekend?''

She gave him a crooked sideways glance. ''Yeah, just a nice stay at a cozy little B&B...where they practice the dark arts and _murder_ people. Lovely little place, perfect for a weekend getaway.''

''Well, I suppose it all depends on what you're into,'' he retorted with a shrug. ''That might be some people's idea of a grand time.'' Now he grinned at Darcy and she smiled back, albeit reluctantly. ''I'm really _trying_ not to be nervous,'' she admitted. ''But it's hard. I keep telling myself that I'm brave, that I've faced down some incredibly creepy things before but...'' Darcy trailed off a moment, then continued. ''This is different. Before, we were just figuring stuff out as we went along, we didn't know what was going on and so we acted almost completely on instinct. There weren't any pre-determined roles, it wasn't an assignment, it was just...life. It was what was happening to us at the time.''

''And so is this,'' Loki pointed out. ''All of this is still _life_, and we _don't_ know what's going on, that's the whole point. Don't go in with preconceived expectations, either about what these people are going to be like, or about how Lucy O'Neal is supposed to seem to them. Let it all unfold naturally, act on instinct, just like you said.'' They fell into companionable silence for awhile, until her heart began to beat a little faster as she looked at the GPS and realized that they were very nearly at their destination. A few more miles of trees flew past and then they turned onto a winding road that seemed to be leading to a private residence.

At the end of the long drive loomed a towering stone mansion surrounded by beautiful landscaping. ''Wow,'' Darcy breathed, and her stomach turned over in a flip. A little shakily, she parked the car, took a deep breath to steady herself.

''You could hide a lot on land this big,'' she noted as she gazed out the window almost in a daze, adding softly, ''This is so not what I was expecting.''

''Not enough hemp fabric and Birkenstocks for you?'' he joked.

''I think I'm going to be bad at this,'' whispered Darcy as she stared up at the looming house. She suddenly regretted agreeing to the assignment at all, wanted to be back in Paris covered in paint.

''No, love, you're a natural,'' Loki told her with reassuring firmness. ''You'll be fine. It's just like one of your little games.''

She smiled weakly in response. ''Well, not just like. But I get it. Ok.'' She took a deep breath and climbed out of the car. As they walked up the stone pathway, the front door opened.

The man who greeted them was tall and well-groomed, appeared to be in his late thirties,with sharp blue eyes and coldly handsome features. Darcy recognised him from the picture in the files Natasha had sent her back in Paris. He too, was dressed very nicely, as if he worked at a law firm rather than as a 'spiritual leader.' There was a distinct roughness to him, though, behind the impeccably manicured exterior.

''Welcome,'' he said politely, extending a hand. ''You must be Lucy and William O'Neal.'' The man smiled. ''My name is Lugh Retnick. Please come inside. I'll have someone come and get your bags.'' He spoke with a faint accent, one that Darcy couldn't exactly place. Probably English, maybe Scottish. It had been worn down over the years but was still there. As their host led them both through the elegant foyer, Darcy couldn't help but let out a little gasp at the opulent interior of the house, with its rich polished woodwork and floors, the antique furniture.

''I suppose you expected some sort of muddy, commune-type farm where nobody shaves,'' Retnick offered in a mildly amused tone, noticing the look of surprise on her face.

''This house is nearly two hundred years old. It sits on over fifteen acres of land. This is the main building where we spend most of our time. There are several others, guesthouses and stables. Feel free to explore, this property is good for long walks, however do be careful, it can be easy to get lost.'' He smiled at them. ''I'm so very grateful for your interest in our ideas. I hope that your stay with us will be very enlightening. I regret that our numbers have dwindled somewhat of late.'' The man gave a great sigh, shook his head. ''You know how people are these days. So flighty. No attention spans whatsoever. Ours is a system that requires the utmost dedication. It isn't for everyone. Only the very special. Let me introduce you.'' He pushed open a door to reveal a sitting room with very large windows.

''This is Cloud,'' Retnick said, pointing to the window seat, where a rail-thin, waif-like young woman with choppy black hair was perched, looking through a book. Hearing them approach, she straightened up, her movements nearly bird-like. ''Cloud, we have visitors. This is William and Lucy.'' The girl angled her pale face and grinned ever so slightly. In another life, she might have been very pretty. She had wide, grey eyes and sharp cheekbones. When she smiled, her teeth were mangled, stained and crooked. Darcy noted that the white skin of her bare arms was absolutely covered in scars, some light and pale, some deep and raised, standing out in sharp relief. Inwardly, Darcy gasped a little, hoping her eyes didn't betray any shock. The mutilated girl, Cloud, closed her book and got to her feet.

''Pleased to meet you,'' she said, and grinned again. A figure passed by the door.

''Ah, Jason!'' Retnick called to a young man, probably around Darcy's age. He was gangly and thin and rather awkward looking, with acne scars and floppy blond hair and a nose that was slightly too large for his face. At the sound of Retnick's voice, he hurried eagerly into the room, reminding Darcy of a stray puppy. ''Lucy and William, this is Jason. He's shown quite a bit of promise here.'' The boy smiled, clearly delighted with the praise, and he reached out and shook both of their hands. Loki noticed that his fingers stayed awhile longer on Darcy's hand, though, that his eyes lingered on her appreciatively.

They were next introduced to a very tall and excitable woman named Penelope who had a long, thin face and dark hair. The woman had interesting features but wasn't exactly pretty, there was a not-small amount of gawkiness to her that seemed to rob her of any overt attractiveness. She gave them a delighted look, her large eyes darting between Loki and Darcy as if she couldn't decide who to stare at longer. She seemed oddly enraptured with both of them.

''I'll have your things taken to your room,'' Retnick said. ''Penelope will show you where it is later. For now, why don't you get acquainted with the property, take a walk. From four to six we have a lull, time for quiet introspection, meditation, reading. Then we all sit down to dinner. Afterwards, we have our nightly Circle, which is at the core of everything that we do here. I'm sure that you will find it very interesting. Now, if you will excuse me, I have to prepare some materials.'' With one last polite smile, he turned and departed down the hallway.

''It's so wonderful to meet you both,'' Penelope told them, her voice airy with breathless excitement. ''You will absolutely love it here.''

''I'm sure we will,'' replied Loki, adding ''You...certainly seem to.''

The tall woman beamed at him. ''Oh, yes. I was so lost before I came here. I always knew that I was special, meant for something more. And then I met Retnick. He opened my eyes to my potential, my destiny.'' Her eyes shone.

''And...what exactly is your...destiny?'' Darcy asked in what she hoped was a friendly and conversational tone, as if they were discussing the weather.

A laugh bubbled out of Penelope. ''To be Restored. To become united with the one who chooses me. It hasn't happened yet...'' her face fell just a little, then picked itself up into a smile once again, ''but I know it will be_ soon_. I can feel it. I can hear him calling to me, right before I fall asleep.''

''Oh,'' said Darcy, not really sure how to respond to that.

''I have to get my books ready,'' Penelope said. ''But I'll come back and find you in a little while and take you to your room.'' She gave them another wide, delighted smile and then trotted away down the hall. Darcy turned her head back toward the study to see that Cloud was now peering out around the doorway, observing them. When she caught Darcy's eye, she shrank back almost bashfully and disappeared.

Though the inside of the house was very interesting and definitely warranted a little more exploration, all of the fresh air and natural beauty outside was calling to her, so Darcy took a walk around, stretching her legs. The day was cool but not overly chilly, and she was comfortable in her skirt and jacket. There was a heaviness to the air, though, as if it were old and dense with memory and secrets. A breeze rustled the leaves on the trees, it tossed her hair. For some reason, her gaze was drawn over to the right, where a small path was worn down, leading into the woods. Walking gave Darcy time to think and process their arrival. The place was absolutely beautiful, yet she could already tell that there was something amok, the energy was off. The members that they'd been introduced to were perhaps more or less what she thought they might be. They seemed like misfits, seekers, desperately wanting to feel special, to have a place to belong. There _was_ something incredibly strange about Lugh Retnick, though, and meeting him face to face only confirmed the feeling that Darcy had gotten while looking at his picture in the case files, a distinct otherworldliness. And he had seemed also as if he were so much older than he actually appeared, like he was pulled from a time past.

Loki walked out onto the back porch, looking for Darcy. He spotted her out over by the stone fence that ran along one edge of the property, her dark hair lifting in the breeze, her skirt blowing around her legs as she walked. It was a pretty sight. He loved watching her when she didn't know that he was there. Apparently, someone else did too. With deep disdain, Loki looked over and noticed that Jason was standing at the opposite end of the porch, also staring at her. The god's hands clenched reflexively into fists, a sudden rush of scalding anger overcame him. The acuteness of the emotion took him almost by surprise. He shouldn't feel so _threatened_, he reasoned, this was a whelp, a young man of no consequence, possessing no power at all. Still, Loki had to will himself to put on a calm facade, forcing pleasantness onto his features as he walked over to Jason. The boy managed to drag his eyes away from Darcy when he saw that he wasn't alone. ''Oh, hi William,'' he said, seeming ever so slightly embarrassed, and also very faintly annoyed.

''Hello, Jason.'' Loki kept his voice friendly. ''I see you've found Lucy. I was just looking for her.''

''She's...lovely,'' the young man replied, nodding towards Darcy, who seemed now to be staring very intently at a corner of the wooded area.

'That's _my wife_,' he wanted to say. But he simply said, ''Yes, she is,'' and gave the other man a very cold, very brittle smile. ''And how long have you been here?'' Loki asked, changing the subject.

''About five months now.'' Jason shifted on his feet. ''I'd dropped out of college and I needed some direction. I met Retnick literally the day that I moved off of campus. I'd always been interested in spiritualism, I knew that there was more out there than I could ever learn in school I was meant for something better. And he showed me the path to Restoration.''

''I hope to learn much about this process,'' Loki told him in a cool tone that he hoped was sincere enough. He ran his hand along the railing of the porch. ''I too have spent many years with that same feeling. I know that there is a great destiny waiting for me, just beyond my reach.''

''Does Lucy feel that way too?'' Jason wondered, swallowing hard, his eyes briefly darting out to find her again.

''Oh, yes. And I know that Lucy has a great purpose as well.'' The god of mischief smiled, showed his teeth. Let hints of ice climb into his voice just at the edges now, showing that slight hint of danger just enough to get the point across that he was not someone to be fucked with.

Darcy headed back as dark clouds overtook the sky, threatening rain. She hurried into the house just as the first few drops began to fall. ''There you are,'' Penelope sing-songed, seemingly appearing out of nowhere in a blur of weird excitement. She grabbed Darcy by the arm, smiling. ''And you too!'' she called, seeing that Loki had just entered the room, having come in from the porch. ''Let me show you were you'll be staying. It's almost four. Time to rest,'' she breathed, leading them along until they reached a tall, winding staircase. ''You can sleep, or you can read, or pray or meditate,'' Penelope said as she practically dragged Darcy along with her up the stairs. Loki followed them, suppressing the urge to laugh.

''This is one of my favourite rooms,'' the tall woman announced as she led them down the hall off to the left of the top of the staircase. ''It's got a great view.'' She giggled and ran her fingers along Darcy's arm as she opened a door. ''And my room's just a few doors down!''

''Uh, thanks!'' Darcy plastered a bright and appreciative expression on her face. ''It's awesome.''

''I'm sooo glad that you both are here!'' Penelope reiterated, laying a hand on both of their arms. ''I'm sure we'll get along great. I can't wait to learn all about you.''

Then she swished away down the hall. Once she was out of sight, Darcy sighed. ''She's an odd unit. I can't figure out if she's hitting on you or me half the time, or if that's just her personality.''

''I think she might be hitting on both of us,'' Loki replied, looking mildly amused. Penelope was utterly harmless, her awkward, flirtatious personality didn't bother him the way that Jason's obvious attention to Darcy did.

''Ok, this is actually a really nice room,'' she admitted as she closed the door behind them, taking note of the huge four-poster bed. She ran her hands along the bed linens, noting that they seemed rather expensive. There were a few chairs and also a small desk in the corner. Darcy went to inspect the adjoining bathroom and had to suppress a small squeal of delight at the enormous bathtub that she found there, easily large enough to fit two people. ''This place is definitely sinister,'' she admitted, ''but it is _swanky_.''

''Maybe they pamper the victims a little beforehand, like a sacrifice,'' offered Loki helpfully.

''Gee, thanks for spoiling it,'' she sighed, walking back into the bedroom. ''I was doing like you suggested earlier, pretending we were on vacation.''

He came to stand behind her, wrapped his hands around her waist, splaying his long fingers over her abdomen. ''What's gotten into you, anyhow?'' Darcy wondered breathlessly. ''I mean, not that I'm complaining or anything,'' she added as his hands now slid searchingly underneath the fabric of her shirt. It was true. Something had been smouldering behind his eyes all afternoon, barely contained. It excited her, ignited a little twinge of lust in her lower belly.

''That...boy. Jason.'' His voice tightened darkly around the name as if wanting to strangle it. ''I don't like the way he looks at you.'' Now Darcy couldn't help but let out a small cough of laughter. ''He's just a little twerp,'' she told him. ''Retnick indulges him, I think, the way he does with the others, makes him feel special.''

''I know,'' Loki said, fighting back the strange wave of possessiveness that had arisen in him. It had been strong before but now that they were alone and he had his hands on her warm, soft skin it threatened to set his blood on fire.

His cool hands cupped her breasts, eliciting a tiny gasp from her as he pinched one of her nipples. Darcy's head lolled back against his chest, she could feel his erection pressing against her lower back. Hot tension flared beneath her skin, a sudden acute jolt of blinding need. She wished that he'd take her right there, up against the wall, drag up her skirt and thrust inside of her. The abrupt strength of her desire was nearly dizzying. ''Nobody is ever going to take me away from you,'' she whispered. ''Nobody ever could.''

Loki smiled at her reassuring words as he felt her heart pounding under his fingertips. ''How should we rest? Do you want to sleep, or maybe _meditate_,'' as he spoke he leaned down and kissed along the side of her neck, grazing her skin lightly with his teeth, pressing down just enough to make her suppress a moan.

''You seriously want to do this now? _Here_?'' Darcy was quickly pulled back to the reality of the situation, she remembered where they were.

''Why not?'' he asked. ''It's our room. I'm not going to stop wanting you just because we have to put up with this weird lot. You know that.''

''Yeah,'' she admitted. If anything, the nervous adrenaline of actually being there after being so apprehensive actually enhanced her desire. Having him there with her, their working together, that was more than a little hot. Seeing Loki in action was always very attractive. ''Ok,'' agreed Darcy, turning to bring her mouth against his. ''_Meditation_ it is.''

* * *

Dinner was served at six in the dining room at a long wooden table which seemed almost dauntingly large for only six people. It was still raining just a little, she could hear the sound of it tapping against the intricate stained-glass windows. Darcy made a note to herself to get a closer look at those later. They were fascinating, depicting what she knew to be certain scenes from various world mythologies, and also some that she didn't recognize. Retnick sat at the end of the table, Darcy and Loki were seated beside each other, across from Cloud, Jason, and Penelope.

Plates of food were brought out by what Darcy assumed to be kitchen staff. The three women were all young, probably in their twenties, with blond hair and blue eyes, dressed identically in black. They looked so very similar that she wondered if they might be triplets. They said absolutely nothing as they worked to set out plates of food and pour wine, their eyes barely even registered a real awareness of where they were. It almost seemed as if they were sleepwalking. Then the three disappeared back into the kitchen once their task was completed. Darcy knew that there were housekeeping and groundskeeping staff on the premises, but she hadn't yet actually met any of them. Retnick never bothered to introduce them, or really overtly acknowledge their presence at all, it seemed. The leader sat back in his large chair and surveyed the group at the table before him. Then he looked directly at Loki and Darcy.

''We are so grateful that you both have decided to come and stay with us for a little while,'' he began. ''There is a good deal of...misconception about what we do here, and it is ever so nice to have educated and open-minded people like yourselves show an interest.''

''This is a very...lovely place that you have,'' said Darcy politely, toying with the fork in her hand.

''Thank you, I have always tried to ensure that it was. We can all grow and learn so much better in a pleasant and comfortable environment. We regret that one of our members has recently left us. Z had potential but was ever so reluctant. She was chosen for Restoration but decided that it was not the path she wanted. It was a shame.'' Retnick shook his head almost sadly. ''Such a waste.''

Across the table, Darcy noticed that a vicious scowl had overtaken Cloud's features. She looked as though she desperately wanted to say something, but was forcing herself to be silent. Clutching her dinner knife in her hand, she dug it into the edge of the plate, her knuckles nearly white. Penelope simply looked annoyed at the mention of 'Z' and her potential, or perhaps maybe jealous. Darcy made a mental note to casually speak to both of them about this later. She wondered what 'recently left us' actually meant, if perhaps Z was one of the bodies that was discovered in the woods.

Now Loki spoke up. ''I was hoping that, in your own words, you might explain some of your teachings to Lucy and I. We're both quite interested in your concept of Restoration.'' He looked at the man at the end of the table imploringly.

''You will certainly gain a full understanding of it during your stay here, but for now I will tell you this: some of us were meant to be _more_.'' Retnick gestured to the group seated before him. ''Our bodies were meant to be used as vessels, to contain unimaginable power and to be transformed by that power. Our purpose now is to prepare, to make ourselves ready to be Chosen.''

Darcy now had to ask, ''What happens when you're...Chosen?''

''Then your body and mind will begin to ready itself to join with the one who selects you as a vessel,'' came Retnick's response. Penelope nearly swooned at the description.

''Why do they select you?'' Darcy pressed. _And just who the hell are they?_ She added silently.

''Too long have we been separated from our potential. We are naked, empty souls trembling helplessly like leaves. We need desperately to be filled,'' Retnick explained, and Penelope nodded in hopeful agreement.

While alarmingly poetic, this all still seemed rather vague to Darcy, and she was certain that it was done purposefully. He wanted to rope them in, so he was only going to give out teasers, naturally he wouldn't divulge any real secrets on the first night.

After dinner was finished, the three odd, blonde women reappeared to collect the dishes as the rest of them stood and were led by Retnick out of the dining room and down the hall to a large wooden door that seemed to be slightly worn down more than the others. The leader pulled a large brass key out of his pocket and opened it. The room that was revealed when he did so looked to be some sort of study or library. But like the door, Darcy noticed, the interior also seemed older and more neglected than the rest of the house, not quite so polished. There were large bookshelves along the wall, but no windows. Along the wooden floor, a circle had been drawn in chalk. They all filed in, stood around it.

''What if one of you is chosen?'' Penelope asked Loki and Darcy. A small shiver of apprehension-or perhaps delight, it was hard to tell with her-made the woman tremble from head to toe. Darcy opened her mouth to say something but Retnick cut in. ''I don't think that will be happening, Penelope,'' he said smoothly. ''Lucy and William are just here to observe us. Let's focus on tonight's circle.''

''Where's Cloud?'' wondered Jason. A brief, nearly imperceptible look of annoyance flickered over Retnick's face and then was gone. Darcy glanced around and noticed that this was true, the strange girl had seemingly vanished after dinner. ''Cloud isn't feeling well, and so I've given her permission to miss tonight's Circle,'' he explained in an even tone, pulling a large and very old looking tome with leather binding from a stand in the corner. ''Now that's enough talk. Let us focus and begin.''

Loki took Darcy's hand, she felt a sudden pulse of energy move through her, and she realized that he had cast a protective spell over them both, a kind of shield to block them from whatever might be summoned within the circle. And it did indeed seem as though things had been called forth, Loki realized, the whole room reeked of a dark unpleasantness, was drenched in a residual sliminess, an energetic ectoplasm of sorts. Staring down at the chalk circle on the floor, Darcy was momentarily knocked breathless by a double vision so intense that it felt like being hit in the head with a brick. Grateful for the spell, she gave his fingers a squeeze and took a deep breath.

Retnick opened the book and began to read in a language that Darcy didn't understand. It didn't sound like anything she'd ever heard before. Loki, however, seemed to be slightly familiar with it, he stood listening with a very intense look of concentration on his face. When the leader reached certain portions of the text, the others chanted a kind of refrain. It seemed that though they had apparently repeated this many times before, they too were ignorant as to the exact translation, they were simply saying what they had been taught to say. Penelope had her eyes shut as she chanted fervently, as did Jason.

There came a sudden palpable shift in the surrounding energy, like a swiftly falling barometer. A wind began to blow around the room, strange and cold. A coppery smell came with it, almost like blood. Then she saw it. On the floor, inside the chalk circle, something had begun to happen. A ghostly fog collected itself, moving counterclockwise in a whirling motion. The chanting continued, Retnick stared intently down into the circle as he read, eyes burning. Then out of the ring of fog there came dark, finger-like tentacles reaching, straggling up out of some abyss. Darcy's eyes grew wide as she tried desperately not to scream. She, Loki, and Retnick, it seemed, were the only people in the room who could actually _see_ the creature manifesting itself. The protection spell around them held firm, but Darcy couldn't help but suppress a shudder as the shadowy spectre slid up out of the circle and and slithered past her feet, making a wet, sucking, snuffling noise as if it were sniffing something out. Then it came to pause by Penelope's feet. The woman couldn't see what had come for her, but apparently she could feel something, and she moved forward ever so slightly as one of the tentacles wrapped around her leg.

The woman seemed to _really_ be feeling something now, her eyes opened wide and she let out a little gasp as the shadowy fingers continued to slither possessively around her leg, climbing higher, stretching until the creature was nearly completely out of the portal, drawn up to its full height. The dark mass wrapped itself around Penelope in a devouring, repulsive embrace. She began to shake and moan, overcome with tremors. Then her cries reached a fever pitch and the creature retreated, slinking back down and vanishing.

Penelope was now lying on the floor, her face uncomfortably ecstatic. The chanting ceased, the ceremony was apparently over. Retnick smiled down proudly at her prone form. ''Penelope has been selected for Restoration,'' he announced.

Once the woman could stand, they all filed out of the room, not bothering to close the circle. Retnick simply scattered what looked like a coat of dust over it and then shut the door, locking it with the key. ''_But wait_!'' Darcy wanted to say, looking back over her shoulder. She remembered Selene teaching her about the importance of always closing a ritual circle. Then she realized that this was most definitely intentional, Retnick knew exactly what he was doing: leaving an open door to some very dark places.

Jason was helping Penelope to walk. The tall woman still seemed to be in some sort of daze. Her head lolled to one side, her eyes half closed. But she was smiling, smiling as if her greatest wish had just been fulfilled.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey loves! Thank you for all of your reviews and follows, I'm so psyched that you guys like this story so far! Here is the next chapter for you, please let me know what you think!**

* * *

_Everything dies, baby, that's a fact_

_But maybe everything that dies_

_Someday comes back_

**-Bruce Springsteen**

* * *

Darcy was shaking when she and Loki returned to their room after the Circle. ''What the hell was that?'' she ground out once she could speak.

''That...is apparently what goes on here,'' Loki answered, a grim and flat expression on his face.

''Be more specific, please!'' she demanded, as her stomach heaved at the memory of what she'd seen.

''The circle. It's a portal, obviously. It opens and then...''

''Things just come crawling out.'' Darcy shuddered, sitting down on the bed. ''Penelope...she...she looked...'' A blush crept over her face. ''She looked like she was...enjoying that.''

Loki gave a dismissive shake of his head as he came to join her. ''She had no idea what was actually touching her. It was pure sensation.'' He did have to agree, though, that it had been quite the unsettling display.

''Apparently she's been wanting 'Restoration' for a long time,'' remarked Darcy, thinking of how excited Penelope had seemed by the concept, how she had said that it would be soon. How she could hear something calling to her at night.

''I'm not surprised. She seems like a very needy and lonely person.''

''Everyone here does.'' Darcy paused in thought, then said, ''Retnick could see that thing too. What exactly was he saying, what was that chanting? You seemed to have some idea, you were listening pretty hard.''

''I could only understand part of it,'' answered Loki honestly. ''It was a kind of invocation, he was calling to whatever might be listening. It seemed...there's a kind of energetic exchange being promised. I think that I definitely do need to find out more about Retnick, what his game is. He's the one who opened the portal.''

''He shifts. I saw it,'' Darcy told him.

Loki nodded. ''I'm not surprised, what with the way he seems to be ripping into different dimensions left and right. I can smell power. _Unnatural, _ill-gotten power. He reeks of it. He seeks to gain something from these so-called Restorations, though I'm not sure what it is.''

Silence fell over the elegant room.

Darcy was very tired, but the events of the day made her head whirl so that she found herself much too wired to sleep well. It reminded her of her first night on Asgard, after she'd gotten her unpleasant introduction to the Norns. Then a soft, warm smile crept around her mouth as she remembered what else had happened that night. She curled closer to Loki, fitted her body against his on the bed. ''We're going to be ok, right?'' she asked, trembling just a little. This had definitely not been anything like what she'd expected, and it did frighten her. Suddenly Paris and even New York were seeming farther and farther away.

''Of course we are,'' he replied, smoothing his hands down over her back. ''I'll admit that this is quite disturbing, but so are many things that we've experienced. What we need to do now is simply wait and watch how it unfolds.'' He spoke in an even, reassuring tone. ''In the morning, you try to talk to Penelope. See if she can give you any clear insight as to what's happening to her. I also think that we should try to get some information out of the little girl, Cloud. I can tell that there's something she wants to say.''

''Ok,'' agreed Darcy. Loki's voice was helping to lull her to sleep, the way it always did. Her eyelids were mercifully beginning to droop. But there was something that she needed to hear, all of a sudden.

''Tell me-'' she began softly.

Before she could even finish the request, he pulled her even closer and whispered, ''You're safe now, I'm here.''

**Friday**

There were two Circles per day, Darcy learned, one in the morning and one at night. The morning Circle didn't seem to include much summoning, in fact it seemed to be more of a strange therapy group. And it was _early_, at seven am. Apparently the Restored Ones were a bunch of early risers, or at least some of them were. Cloud didn't seem overly delighted to be out of bed, her hair was a mess and she curled her tiny body inward as she sat on the floor, dragging her sweatshirt over her knees. Jason seemed more awake, and eager, as he always was. For this circle, they thankfully didn't meet in the musty space with the chalk on the floor, rather they gathered in a room with what seemed to be a disproportionate amount of mirrors on the walls, almost like a dance studio.

There wasn't any coffee yet, so Darcy tried in vain to fight her grogginess. Eventually, she rested her head on Loki's shoulder and kept it there so that all her energy could be focused merely on keeping her eyes open.

''We pray to be selected for Restoration,'' Retnick began. The leader certainly seemed wide awake, invigorated even. Darcy made a mental note of this—she tended not to trust morning people. There was definitely something a little wonky about anyone who was chipper before 11 am. ''Our dear Penelope was chosen just last night during the circle.'' He beamed at her. ''And on the next new moon, in less than three days, she shall be Restored.'' Penelope smiled a pale smile that seemed to lack some of her typical enthusiasm, vacant. She looked as if she were smiling in her sleep.

''Now,'' he said, in a brisk, clear tone,''today I want to discuss the feeling of loneliness. I know that all of us have felt lonely at one time or another, some more than most. And it can be a terrible thing. But here we need not feel this way. Here, we wait for the time when we will never again have to experience this sensation, because we are on the path to Restoration, willing vessels waiting to be Chosen. Penelope, do you feel lonely anymore?''

The woman shook her head, the movement oddly listless. ''No.''

''That is because she is not alone, she will never be alone again.'' Retnick gave a pause. ''And why, some have asked, do they choose us as vessels? What do they need _us_ for? The concept of a god stealing away a mortal is a very ancient one, a common theme in mythology, actually. Humans have an appeal because we are capable of so much, yet live so briefly. We need to be saved from this...lack of time. A cursed race of beings, that's what we are. That is what we must accept. This acceptance is the very first step on the path to Restoration. The more we understand the depth of our brokenness, our emptiness—the more we understand our _need-_only then can we finally sense our true potential. It does not have to be this way! We need not succumb to our human curse. And the ones who choose us? They do so because they are very lonely. Because we can give them the home that they desperately need—a temple within our very own bodies. Constant, unceasing devotion. Love. What we all deserve.''

* * *

After the circle disbanded, they all filed into the dining room and were served breakfast by the same three women as the night before. Darcy looked closely at the one who set a plate down in front of her, noticed that the pupils in her pale blue eyes were tiny little pinpoints, even though there didn't seem to be a tremendous amount of light in the room. One of the others carried a carafe of coffee and when she bent to fill the cup, her eyes looked the same way.

Afterward, she and Loki went in separate directions; he was going to do some exploring of the house while she was going to try to get any information that she could out of some of the other members, particularly Penelope. Darcy made a point to speak to her alone, catching her in the hallway.

The tall woman had started to look rather odd. A weird film almost perpetually glazed over her eyes and it gave the impression that she was constantly gazing into some abyss, one that had already found her, had taken up residence inside of her body. A strange, dark fluid bubbled and oozed out of the corners of her mouth. Almost robotically, she pulled a tissue from her pocket and wiped it away.

''Are you alright?'' Darcy asked her. She fervently hoped that her expression didn't show any overt disgust. The woman smiled, a revolting sight as her teeth were now stained nearly black.

''Soon I go to join him,'' Penelope said. Her head was cocked at a strange angle. Her tone of voice was different too, there was a depth and thickness to it that hadn't been there before.

''Join who?''

''He will restore me.''

Darcy tried again. ''Penelope, what exactly _is_ Restoration? Can you describe it to me in your own terms, maybe?'' There had been no clear answer yet to this question from Retnick, so she hoped that the woman might be able to give her some insight, particularly now.

''It is when we become pure vessels, when our chosen joins fully with us and we are one. Finally.''

More puppetry, more repetition. Trying to hide her exasperation and disappointment at the utter lack of any concrete information, Darcy gently asked, ''Are you feeling alright, though? You look...sick.'' Sick was a polite term for how the woman looked.

''I feel wonderful. I can feel him all around me, inside me, preparing me. I never want him to leave me,'' Penelope spoke rapturously.

''Why? He...he might not be what you think he is,'' Darcy ventured in a careful tone.

''I know what he is better than anyone,'' she replied obstinately, blinking her odd, milky eyes. ''He has chosen me to know him thus. Me in all the world. It is a privilege.'' More dark fluid dripped from the edges of her lips now as she spoke.

''I don't want to be alone anymore, and neither does he. He has promised to fill me, to consume me so that we will be one forever. And I shall no longer be empty and wanting.'' Something in her eyes, in her tone, made Darcy shiver.

* * *

After her strange and disappointing conversation with Penelope, Darcy ventured outside and noticed Cloud walking in the yard, over by the stone fence. ''Hey!'' she called, hurrying over to her. The girl looked up, seeming like a startled rabbit. Then she offered a thin smile. ''Hi, Lucy,'' she said.

''Do you mind if I take a walk with you? It's so nice right now...'' She looked up at the brightness of the day. ''But they said there's going to be rain later so...''

''Sure,'' Cloud replied. Darcy walked beside her in silence for a few minutes, then asked, ''So, do you like it here?''

There wasn't any answer at first. Then she replied, ''Yes,'' however the word was spoken very tentatively, and Darcy knew immediately that she was lying.

''What made you decide to come out here?''

''My friend and I had just gotten out of the hospital. I got out first, I was in a day program.'' Cloud tucked an unruly strand of hair behind her ear. ''But when Z got discharged she called me and said that she'd met this guy, and he had answers. And a place to stay. She asked me if I'd go with her. So I said yes. It seemed better than staying where I was.''

''How old are you?'' Darcy asked softly.

''Almost nineteen,'' replied Cloud. ''Z was a few years older. We both aged out of the system. It's hard.'' She stared down at her feet, her dark hair slid across her eyes. ''It's really hard. Anyways, so we get up here and at first Z is all gung-ho and excited, leans on Retnick's every word. Then things started to change a little, after the first few weeks.''

''Why? What happened?''

''Z decided that she didn't like it here. She wanted to leave,'' explained Cloud, her thin, scarred arms swinging as she walked.

''Why?'' asked Darcy.

Cloud paused, leaned against the stone wall and stared into the woods as she spoke. ''She said that things had started to call to her at night. First they whispered, then they screamed, getting closer and closer until it was all she could hear. She couldn't get away.''

This was very interesting. ''So...not everyone here wants to be Restored?''

The girl abruptly started walking again. ''I didn't say that. I think I shouldn't say anything more, right now.'' She blinked rapidly.

''All right...that's fine,'' Darcy said in a soothing voice, as if she were trying to calm a startled horse. ''Why don't we just keep walking and you can show me some more of the land.''

Cloud seemed to relax a bit, the restless twitchiness in the corners of her eyes eased. ''Ok,'' she agreed. They walked together until they reached the place that Darcy had noticed before, the worn, narrow path leading into the woods. ''Where does that go?'' she asked, nodding over at it.

''It doesn't go anywhere,'' the girl mumbled, her expression growing tense once again. She fumbled around in her pockets until she pulled out a cigarette. Once again, Darcy knew instantly that she was lying. Even without extra strong perceptive abilities, she would still have known this—Cloud had absolutely no poker face, her every movement was a tell. She decided to let the subject drop for now, instead decided to try and see if perhaps the scarred young girl could offer any true insight into Restoration.

''What exactly does Retnick teach you guys?'' she asked. ''I'm still a little fuzzy on it.''

''Well, first off, he teaches us that there are other worlds out there. Like, other dimensions with people and stuff in them. Hundreds of them or more.'' Cloud paused for a moment to light her cigarette. ''And sometimes, certain people can reach through and communicate with the other worlds. Even bring things through. See, he says that at one point, it wasn't like that. Everything was together, in the same space. That was the way it was supposed to be. And we—humans-were originally supposed to live forever. But then something happened, and we were cut off from that place, and from our immortality. We were left here and cursed to live a short, weak life and then die. But Retnick discovered a way to Restore us—some of us—to our full immortality.''

This sounded like utter bullshit to Darcy. ''And this immortality is achieved through...becoming a vessel for...the things on the other side?''

Cloud nodded. ''Yes. Some of the things, anyway. The gods. And they have to choose you.''

''Why exactly do you call them '_gods_'?'' Darcy wondered, trying not to let any exasperation creep into her voice. ''Have you actually _seen_ any of the things that come through to choose people?''

She swallowed hard. ''I don't know another word for them. They're not spirits. They're not demons. They're_ more_.'' Smoke clustered around her head like a halo, then dissipated.

''So...you've met spirits and demons?''

The girl bobbed her head in a nod.''Retnick teaches us the very basics of how to conjure, but we're not allowed to do it. Only he can summon, during the Circle. But we're encouraged to read and explore. He's got lots and lots of interesting books about demonology, angels, ghosts...those aren't the things he's worried about. He calls them 'small fish'. I've seen one or two show up. They can be annoying. They snicker in the corners, hiss at you, pull your hair, knock things over. But that's if you let them out. They're a pain to throw back in.''

The sun shone now with an almost mocking brightness, cold and mean.

Cloud laughed, a rough laugh, and continued. ''Oh, spirits, yes—spirits you can run from, shake off. It's exhausting, but you can do it, and through training and patience, you can become adept. Gods, on the other hand...'' she trailed off, with a birdlike shake of her head, her thin frame overtaken by a sudden tremor. ''You can't outrun them. You can't shake them off. They are so much bigger and more powerful than you can imagine, and if they want you, they'll _have_ you. Sometimes, it can be a very beneficial relationship, or so I've been told. Other times, not so much. It really depends on what you're dealing with.'' She took another drag of her cigarette and crossed her thin arms, stilling.

Now Darcy had to ask another question. ''The...the...entity that bothered your friend Z...was it a spirit or a god?''

''I couldn't really say,'' offered Cloud with a heavy shrug, never moving her eyes, still staring across to the path leading into the woods. ''But it was strong, whatever it was.''

The sky darkened slightly again now, it seemed as though that promised rain would soon arrive. Cloud went back into the house to read, but Darcy wanted to stay outside for just a little while longer. The fresh air helped her think, and she needed to do quite a bit of mental processing. As she walked around the side of the house, she heard a rustling behind her. She whirled around and saw a man standing there quietly by the rhododendrons, wearing a pair of gardening gloves. He smiled at her.

''Ah, Miss Lucy, curious little Lucy,'' the man said. ''Just like in that children's story. I wouldn't go opening too many doors around here, though.'' He chuckled. Darcy noticed that the stranger spoke with an accent, similar to Retnick's. He was short and slight, with longish unkempt hair and features that were probably best described as elvin. He also had something wrong with one of his eyes, she saw, the eyelid perpetually drooped, giving the impression that he was half asleep. Darcy was also suddenly willing to bet that this man also looked far younger than he actually was.

''Are you the gardener?'' she asked, looking at the gloves on his hands.

''Something like that,'' he replied, the curious and crooked smile never leaving his face.

''How did you know my name?'' Darcy wondered with a raised eyebrow. ''I haven't met any off the staff yet. I mean, I've seen some of them, but...''

''The girls from the kitchen? Pretty maids all in a row? They aren't very talkative, I'm afraid. You aren't likely to meet too many of us, Retnick likes it when we're rarely seen and never heard.'' He chuckled again. ''But I've never been too good about following orders, me.'' Pulling off one of his gloves, he extended a hand. ''I'm Ethan Montauk. And I know—because I was told that you'd be arriving with your husband—that you are Lucy O'Neal. And if I might say, it is a pleasure to have someone so lovely around this place.''

Darcy shook his hand. ''It's nice to meet you too,'' she replied. Ethan seemed a little odd, but there was nothing about him that screamed danger and darkness the way that Retnick did. If anything, he just seemed rather sad underneath the Cheshire Cat grin. Ethan looked up at the sky. ''Rain today,'' he remarked. ''Probably soon. You should be getting back inside now.''

As she turned to leave, she could hear him start to hum something, a tune that was strangely familiar. _Oh dear, what can the matter be? Johnny's so long at the fair._

* * *

After taking a long walk through the entire mansion, which really was immense, Loki wandered into the study to see that Cloud was once again perched by the window, deeply engrossed in a large book. She didn't look up when she heard him come in but she said, ''I took a walk with your wife. She's nice.'' A page turned with a crisp flutter.

''She is, yes.'' He moved further into the room now. ''How did you know it was me?''

Now she looked up at him. ''Your footsteps sound different than the others.''

He let this pass, though he wondered about it. ''What are you reading?''

The girl pushed a strand of wild dark hair out of her face. ''Just a book on Sumerian creation myth.''

''The Sumerians certainly are _popular _nowadays, aren't they?''

''People are interested in old and mysterious things,'' Cloud replied, wrapping her oversized hoodie more tightly around her bony shoulders. The air had grown a bit chillier, there was definitely bad weather on the horizon once again. ''They were from the cradle of civilization, right? The supposed beginning of everything. That's intriguing.''

''Well, they may have been at the beginning of everything, but they're certainly not here now,'' Loki said as he inspected some of the titles on the bookshelf. ''I don't quite understand this fascination with the peoples of antiquity...broken stones and statues.''

''I can totally understand it,'' answered Cloud, giving him an oddly sympathetic look from beneath her jagged bangs. ''And I know Lucy can, too. I loved her thesis. I must have read it at least three times. I was so excited when I heard that you guys were coming. She's so much younger and prettier than I expected her to be—she's only a few years older than me.'' The girl's shoulders drooped and she turned another page in the book.

He could sense a powerful sadness in Cloud, a kind of longing to be sure—but not the sort that Penelope felt. It was of the more human variety, a desire for simply _life_, not the strange promises of a mad conjurer. ''You seem like you have a real love of learning and reading,'' Loki said gently. ''Why don't you go to school the way that Lucy did and study the same things? That might serve you better than sitting in this place day after day waiting to be chosen.''

''I've thought about it...but...'' she trailed off, looked out the window. ''I don't think that's going to happen.'' Her voice was suddenly very heavy and resigned, as if a dark cloak was being pulled over the words. ''I think that I'm next to be chosen. I just...I just have this feeling. It's already too late.''

* * *

''Well, Cloud is certainly a fan of yours,'' Loki remarked to Darcy later that evening as he sat on the bed reading. He held up Lucy O'Neal's thesis. ''She said that she read this three times.''

''She's such a sad girl,'' Darcy replied. ''I don't think that she wants to be here. I think she's scared, actually, too scared to leave. I think that Retnick may have threatened her or something. You know that girl Z that he mentioned? That was Cloud's friend, they came here together. And she said that Z also wanted to leave, because things had started to call to her at night. Apparently this is the first stage of being Chosen.''

''I'm trying to understand the dynamic that's operating here, but it's definitely convoluted. It seems almost as though Restoration isn't so much something that is wanted as something that is thrust upon these people. And some of them are so desperate that they look the other way, develop a sort of cognitive dissonance until they believe that they actually desire it.''

''Well, Penelope totally drank the Kool-Aid,'' said Darcy with a shudder. ''She's still going on like this is the greatest thing that's ever happened to her. Have you _seen_ her?''

''Unfortunately, yes.'' Loki made a face. ''She looks ghastly. Whatever was conjured forth in that circle, it definitely has a hold on her. She's more of a host for a parasite than a vessel, that thing seems to be devouring her from the inside out.''

''If this is what she's like after only a day, what the hell is going to happen on Sunday night when she has her full-on Restoration? Is she going to wind up buried somewhere out in the woods like the others?''

Shaking his head, Loki answered, ''Something tells me no. I don't think that everyone who goes through this process winds up dead—I think that those were just unfortunate mistakes. Perhaps their human bodies simply couldn't hold whatever was trying to use them, and they died during the final ritual that Retnick performs. Like we said, it happens in stages. First, you're chosen, then whatever chooses you starts to prepare your body as a vessel, then during the final stage...I think that if your body holds, the god or spirit or whatever simply wears you round like a skin. That may be what 'Restoration' really is.''

* * *

''Cloud and I were having a rather interesting discussion today,'' Loki began. They were all once again gathered in the dining room for dinner. Retnick raised his eyebrows. ''Oh really?'' he said lightly, giving the girl a curious look. She ducked her head a little, picked at a piece of bread on her plate, slowly tearing it apart. ''Please enlighten us.''

''I noticed that she happened to be reading a book on Sumerian myths. And I remarked that I didn't understand the human fascination with ancient civilizations.''

''Oh but surely you do, on some level,'' Retnick gave an amused chuckle, leaned back in his chair. ''As a scholar you must realize the merits of looking to the past.''

''I think that it's worth a glance but certainly not meant to be used as a guidebook of sorts—see here is where Lucy and I disagree.'' Loki gestured to Darcy and she immediately picked up on the cue to play along with whatever he was doing. ''She is, obviously, always looking back, further and further, trying to find truth there, a truth that can be brought forward into the present to enlighten or enhance. I say that we can never actually understand the context of what we find in the past, because we weren't there. The world is so utterly and vastly different now that anything we might find simply won't fit here. It won't do us any good.''

''But it makes us ask questions,'' Darcy blurted. ''And from those questions, we continue to learn and advance. Why? Why? It's always _why—_human beings constantly want answers. And often those answers can't be found here. We've already used up all of our present available resources and still we are...lacking, somehow. We're missing a piece of the puzzle—we're missing lots of pieces, in fact. And sure, these cultures and civilizations are gone now, but they left something behind, all of them, even if it's something small. A myth, a story, a...piece of stone with carving in it, whatever. Maybe staying only in the present and disregarding the past gets us further and further away from answers because we're always moving farther away from the beginning with each passing moment.''

''What makes you think that there were answers at the beginning, though?'' Loki asked. Darcy was aware of everyone at the table now watching them as they locked into this debate. She felt weirdly exhilarated by it, she had forgotten that she was pretending. ''What if the first people were just asking questions the same as anyone else? And there was nothing to find, and nobody there to ask. Just lonely people. Lonely earth, lonely sky.''

A silent pause fell over the room and everything went still until Retnick said, ''I think that this brings us back nicely to the discussion that we were having this morning. We desire answers, but we cannot find them as we are now.''

''Because we're cursed?'' asked Loki, giving the man a cold look.

''Yes,'' he replied with a slow nod. ''Because we are cursed.''


	6. Chapter 6

_I love you as certain dark things are to be loved_

_In secret, between the shadow and the soul_

**-Pablo Neruda**

**Saturday**

Some nights, Darcy was to learn, nothing happened during a Circle. The chanting didn't always summon something, and this apparent failure would leave Retnick looking pale and drawn, which was what had occurred the previous evening. A thick aura of apprehension now cloaked the house. It seemed to be holding its breath, waiting for something. The weekend brought a colder chill to the air—spring had already arrived but they hadn't yet had too many warm days, winter seemed to be wanting to malinger this year. Still, Darcy had become quite fond of walking outside; it was something about the trees here, she decided, the trees and the land in general. The nature demonstrated a kind of awareness, as if it had been watching for a long time and had collected many secrets. In particular, she couldn't seem to stop thinking about the path which led into the woods.

After breakfast, she toyed with the idea of going out there to do a little inspecting, yet some small tendril of hesitation clutched at her arm and so she decided to put it off for just a little while. It was supposed to warm up if not later in the day, then definitely by Sunday, so she would have a chance to go exploring soon. She decided instead to walk through the house itself—she hadn't really seen all of it yet, just the areas where the group tended to spend the most of its time.

Darcy went around with her phone, taking pictures of the more interesting features of the mansion. The doorways were intriguing. Each one was different in a very subtle way if you looked closely enough. These variations might have been something as simple as a different shade or type of wood. None of the doorknobs were ever identical, and sometimes the frames contained a kind of pattern, or marking that the others didn't. Darcy wondered about the history of the house and land itself; Retnick had mentioned that it was over two hundred years old. Anything that old was bound to have many, many stories to tell.

She walked by the door to the room where she and Loki were staying and looked up to see that, neatly carved into the wood, which appeared to be oak, was a neat carving of the moon transitioning through its various phases. Darcy wondered if there was some sort of astrological component to the Restorations. Retnick had mentioned that Penelope's would take place during the new moon, on Sunday night. It might simply have been a coincidence, or perhaps the energy of this particular time lent something to the ritual.

Suddenly, overcome with a chill along her skin, Darcy knew she wasn't alone. She turned to see the little girl from her dream standing there, wearing that same grey dress and red shoes. The child looked at her quietly, then said ''It eats moonlight.'' Heart slamming in her chest, Darcy closed her eyes and then when she opened them she was alone again.

Sucking in a deep breath to calm her rattling nerves, she quickly hurried out of that particular hallway and back to the main staircase again. Darcy_ knew_ that she hadn't been hallucinating. Whoever this child was, she was connected to whatever had been going on in the house, and her spirit clearly had something that it wanted to say.

As she descended the stairs she was struck by a remarkable feeling that made her pause and simply stand there. It was the recognition of an empty space, calling out. Darcy was suddenly, powerfully aware that inside of her there were hollow places. They cried, those hollow places. And then came a crushing desire for one thing, the only thing that could make it better.

At the same moment, Loki was standing in the room with the mirrors on the walls when he felt himself become charged with a weird, burning energy. It made him want—no, _need_ to touch Darcy, to pull her as close as he possibly could, to restore some balance. The need crashed through him like a migraine attack, a feeling of terrible panic lingering at the edges of the desire and he hurried away from his own reflection and towards wherever she was. Because he felt as if he couldn't have her that he would go insane.

They met somewhere near the bottom of the stairwell, drawn to each other through the throbbing air, the sudden heat that hung all around like the first few moments before a storm. She couldn't remember which one of them reached the other first but then she was being spun around and he was pulling her along back up the stairs, and she was racing after him with eager footsteps. The opening of a door made of oak, with moon phases carved into the frame above it. A flurry of motion, limbs pulling out of clothing, then the delight of bare skin meeting, cool against warm.

''Will we die at the same time?'' Darcy asked in a whisper as Loki brushed her hair to the side and began to kiss her neck.

''Why do you think that?'' he breathed against her skin as his lips trailed upwards to close over her earlobe.

A soft tremor ran through her.''We're so connected, our minds...everything. It's almost like I don't know who I am without you. If you weren't there, suddenly, I feel like I would just stop existing.''

Loki understood this. Too well. Only it wasn't simply a fear of not existing. It was a fear of existing in endless torment. ''I don't want to think about these things now. I don't want us to think. I just...need to feel.''

''Kiss me,'' she said, and he did, the motion of his lips at first slow and lingering, then deeper and more seeking as his body melded with hers.

''Look at me,'' he begged. ''Open your eyes, keep them open. Watch what's happening.'' As he spoke he slid slowly out of her and then back in again, stroking back and forth, the sight unbearably arousing to Darcy as she did as he asked and opened her eyes.

She started to come undone; he was about to follow and so Loki pressed his fingertips against her head. This was something that they had been experimenting with—he had discovered that he could extend her orgasm for...well, until she couldn't take it anymore.

The feeling started deep in the core of her, bloomed outwards feverishly, again and again, wave after wave of it, unceasing. The pleasure would crest but not taper off, simply dragged her along onto another plane of sensation. Darcy began to cry when she reached that place, her skin flushed and trembling, soft. He brought his hand away from her head and it receded, returning her to herself, to the ordinary world where they were forced to exist separately, to feel those empty spaces, at least for awhile.

* * *

**A Few Hours Later**

Penelope didn't say much now, her skin was turning a strange, grayish color and the film over her eyes was growing thicker. When she did speak, there was a heavy, hissing edge to her voice, her black-stained tongue would dart out to lick her parched lips. She was sitting on the edge of one of the chairs in the study, perched there as if she might need to leap up at any moment. Darcy and Loki sat a few feet away from her, but the tall woman gave no sign that she was aware of their presence at all. Very discreetly, Darcy managed to snap a few quick pictures with her phone. She'd been trying to document each strange occurrence, and also attempting to view Penelope with an objective and almost scientific detachment, but it was incredibly difficult to not be rattled. Obviously, there was no way to record any footage of what went on inside the room with the chalk circle, but Darcy assumed that the results of whatever had occurred would speak for themselves. The trouble was that so far she and Loki hadn't gotten anything specific to link Lugh Retnick or any of the others to the discovered bodies, nor was there any hard evidence that anyone was being held there against their will—at least not physically. Everyone seemed to be emotionally dependent on their leader and what he promised, which was the 'normal' cult dynamic, if such a thing existed. Except, strangely enough, for Cloud. She was arguably the most damaged of all of them, yet she was the only one who seemed to show any indication that she was troubled by what was going on, the only one who didn't adore Retnick. The only one who was afraid of Restoration. Yet even Cloud seemed to see Penelope's altered state in a weary and fatalistic way. She'd probably watched the same thing happen to her friend Z, Darcy realized, and her heart panged again for the sad young woman.

_''Is this even technically a cult?''_ she asked Loki._ ''I mean, what does Retnick really want from these people?'' _After the energetic high of their lovemaking, they found it almost easier to communicate this way, and it gave them the added benefit of being able to carry on a conversation about someone that they were in the same room with. Though it probably wouldn't have mattered if they had spoken aloud, the person sitting on the edge of the chair was now little more than a shell.

Loki could see that Penelope's aura was dwindling, growing more and more faint as her life force became eclipsed by whatever was inside of her. But that energy was going somewhere, as if it was being pulled out slowly, strands at a time. Someone else was collecting her life force, not the creature. The creature was simply taking over and filling in the empty spaces as they were left behind. The incantation being chanted the other night during the circle—Loki hadn't been able to get a perfect translation, but as he'd told Darcy, there was an exchange being created. One part in particular had stood out clearly: Retnick had said _'I offer these Vessels if they be willing, and consume the spark of their selves.'_ And then he'd asked Jason and Penelope, '_Are you willing?'_

And they had answered back their refrain: '_Yes, we are willing'_

Loki wasn't sure if they knew what they were saying, what they were actually agreeing to. But he was fairly certain that the greatest parasite was not whatever was being conjured, but the conjurer himself. ''_He wants life.''_

* * *

As soon as Darcy stepped into the room with the chalk circle on the floor with the others that evening she knew that something was going to happen. It collected in the air like electricity, sending little tremors up and down her arms, pins and needles. The book was opened and the chanting began. First nothing, and then a shift in the fabric of the room. Suddenly, a small marble slowly rolled across the wooden floor, seemingly out of nowhere. It rolled around their feet, faster and faster, spinning and speeding along the chalk circle.

Retnick continued to chant fervently, almost desperately, sweat shining on his face. Though he did notice the marble, his eyebrows raised ever so slightly in surprise, or perhaps bewilderment. And then that _something_ happened, abruptly. Darcy could feel a familiar presence creeping up from somewhere inside of her, taking over and pushing her consciousness to the background. This hadn't happened in so long, not since the day of their final battle with the Norns. She had hoped that it was gone forever, but it seemed that was not to be.

''Oh no,'' she thought desperately. ''_Please no, not now_!'' But the Well had never exactly been a good listener.

Her eyes went black, her body locked into a strange, rigid posture. The chanting stopped, and Loki's heart plummeted in terror as he saw what was happening, that everyone was staring; even Penelope seemed oddly intrigued, more alert.

Darcy now glared around the group with her alien eyes. The Well seemed to be angry about something, it plastered a furious expression onto her face and then began to speak, an ancient and terrible voice pushing its way out of her throat. ''_Shut the door_,'' it rasped venomously. ''_Shut the door, you fools_!'' Retnick seemed curious and yet somehow remarkably unperturbed. Just...interested, and that bothered Loki more than anything.

Then the Well abandoned its grip on Darcy and she collapsed weakly.

''What was that?'' asked Jason, his eyes wide. ''Was Lucy Chosen?''

''No,'' said Retnick slowly, closing the book. ''That was something else.'' He looked over at Loki, who met his eyes with a deadened stare as he gently helped Darcy up. She was trembling and horrified by what had happened, what had potentially been revealed. Loki was trying to decide how to proceed. He could play it off like this had never happened before, and act appropriately rattled. But some awful awareness in the other man's face let him know that Retnick sensed their deception, but to what extent, Loki couldn't be sure. So he simply said, ''I should take her to lie down,'' and then left the room with his arm tightly around Darcy's shaking shoulders.

He helped her up the long flight of stairs and into their room, a much slower ascent than they'd had earlier in the day. Darcy collapsed facedown onto the bed, pulling the covers over her face, crying. He pulled them off of her. ''None of this,'' he told her firmly.

''He _knows_,'' she said, reaching up to brush tears away from her face. ''I can already tell, he knows.''

''He doesn't know anything. All that he and the others saw was a temporary bout of spirit possession—it's probably happened before. Use this to your advantage, make the others open up to you.'' Even as he told her this, he knew it was a lie. Loki came to sit beside her sprawled form on the bed. ''Are you alright?'' he asked in a softer voice.

''Yeah,'' mumbled Darcy. ''Just worn out and dizzy. That hasn't happened in awhile. I think...I think the Well is pissed about what they're doing here.''

''Clearly,'' replied Loki. His hand trailed down and he rubbed gentle, comforting circles into her back. ''And it is curious. We still don't know exactly what the Well is or where it comes from. I mean...does it possess other people from time to time or is it something specific to you?''

She thought about it for a moment. ''I don't know...I always assumed that it had something to do with the connection of our minds. It's like when you did that, you opened some other kind of channel in me. And the Well sensed that. I think that...that maybe it's some kind of balance-restorer for the cosmos. It got angry at what the Norns were doing too—that's how it all finally ended. I feel like...like it knows me, and trusts me.''

Loki lay down next to Darcy so that they were face to face. ''You trusted_ me_ enough to let me into your mind...and your body, in more ways than one. And maybe this 'Restoration' is a kind of two-way street. Perhaps...these 'gods' crave the feel of a human. Because I didn't want to leave you either. There's nothing, nothing in this or any world that could possibly come close to the feeling of an invocation. That adoration. That love.'' He ran his hand along her cheek. ''I stole you. And I'm still too much of a bastard to be sorry.''

* * *

**Sunday**

Retnick looked up when he heard the knock on the door to his personal study, smiled almost genuinely when he saw who had come for a visit.''Ah William, please do come in. Sit down, let's chat awhile.'' He gestured to the large armchair across from the antique wooden desk that he sat behind. Loki sat, stretched out his long legs. He'd decided that it was time to do as Natasha Romanov had suggested, particularly after what had happened the night before. The two men regarded each other in silence for what seemed to be a very long time, but was really only a few seconds. Something in Retnick's eyes told the god that he was being humoured, that the leader was quite aware that he and Darcy were not who they claimed to be. So he went about beginning the conversation bluntly.

''What is it that you want? What are you trying to do?''

''Evolve,'' Lugh answered simply. He almost smiled. ''I'm sure that you can understand that. In fact, I'm sure that you can understand exactly why I do what I do.'' He stood and walked over to a small shelf in the corner, pulling out a very large and expensive looking bottle of aged Scotch and pouring it into two glasses. He handed one to Loki.

''You're trying to live forever. It's not hard to understand,'' Loki said dismissively, accepting the drink. ''And you're offering these people's lives up in exchange.''

A pause, lingering and contemplative. Light sliced jaggedly into the room, shining across the desk.

''You put it so very simplistically, so crudely. I would have thought you would be more sympathetic.'' Retnick frowned as if he were disappointed, swirled the liqueur in his glass .

''Sympathetic to what?'' Loki asked, a bit harshly.

''To the _hunger._ The hunger for someone to fill, someone to drown in. Wanting to know what it feels like to devour, to be devoured.'' He looked pointedly at Loki. ''Lucy—or whatever her real name is—she was once human. I think you know as well as I, old chap,'' said Retnick with a sigh, the vague scent of cigar smoke suddenly clouding his aura like a halo, ''if you love someone enough, you can make them live forever.''

The god gave him a cold stare, a mean chuckle hissed from between his lips.''Do you even know what you conjure through that portal?''

The other man took a long sip of his Scotch. ''All matter of lonely and terrible things. And the more lonely they are, the more hungry and powerful they become. They are drawn to humans, particularly broken ones. They can smell them from worlds away. It's not arbitrary, either, the way they choose their Vessels. I can't exactly force them to choose one of my people. But I don't have to. They're always, always starving.'' He inspected the ice cubes in his glass as he spoke, watched them melt shimmeringly in the sunlight.

''Well, regardless,'' Loki said in a laconic tone, ''word has apparently gotten out about you, that you're a dangerous madman, that everyone who comes to you winds up dead or worse. Soon you won't have any fresh meat to throw to your beasts. And that means no food for you, either.''

''They have no idea what I am. But they _are_ curious. I knew that SHIELD would eventually come knocking at my door. I just didn't expect them to send you.'' Retnick nodded as if he were impressed. ''You did catch me a bit off guard there. But I decided to simply let things unfold. If nothing else, I thought it would at least be _interesting_.''

Loki wasn't exactly sure how the man knew who they were working for, or to what extent he had gleaned their true identities, but he decided that at the moment they were already past the point in the conversation where that mattered. He nodded slowly, his body language revealing nothing, not confirming or denying. Simply moving on. ''I understand. Your numbers are dwindling, and you no longer have the sustenance that you need. You were hoping for someone strong and possibly powerful to drain the life from. To keep you sustained for a greater length of time.''

''Bigger fish, yes. I'm ever so tired of scraps.'' Lugh gave a disdainful sniff. ''The mad, the disenfranchised, the forgotten. The broken orphans. But we're all broken orphans underneath it all. Everyone is wanting and hungry. And I know...I know that they will find their way here sooner or later. They all do. They all come to stand in the circle.'' His cold blue eyes seemed to be very far away, dreamlike and rambling and tilting off of some new edge, down and down. Into the abyss inside.

''I'm sure you and your better half are both used to being coveted, but not by me,'' he added. ''You're of no use—you're already corrupted, corroded vessels.''

''What are you talking about?'' Loki asked, raising an eyebrow. ''We're not.''

The other man waved a hand dismissively in the air. ''Of course you are. Come now, old boy, I know you're not that stupid, that blind. You're vessels for_ each other_. So perfectly fitted, and so complete. A beautiful and tragic union, the stuff of myth. But I am curious,'' he leaned forward, half-smiling with the creeping curiosity of a predator. ''How did you make it work?''

''I didn't,'' replied Loki, his face once again utterly devoid of expression. He took a long sip of the drink in front of him.''It was natural selection, as the scientists say. It just...happened.''

Retnick shrugged. ''Such unions aren't _entirely_ unheard of. I'd wager that there's more than a few like her out there. But I wouldn't want to meet them. You see, after the transition from mortal to something more, eventually there comes a moment when time just…seems to stop existing at all. For you. Just for you. You realise that you are frozen, but everything else still moves at the pace it has always known.'' He held up his glass of Scotch, the light shone through it. ''For me that moment came after the first fifty years of remaining unchanged. I watched most of the young men I had fought with become weak old men. As I stayed exactly the same. That's the hard pill to swallow. Watching that ever-present organic decay, insidiously working. You can almost smell death everywhere. And there is no longer any reason to mark the days, to measure them in any way. It can make you ever so lonely.''

''If you want to live forever, or your approximation of forever at least, then why not simply become a Vessel yourself?'' wondered Loki, as he tried to take note of everything that had just been revealed in the man's statement. He'd admitted to being at _least_ more than eighty years old, and apparently a soldier at some point. He'd been at this game for quite a long time, who knew how many victims he'd accumulated across the years.

Retnick sneered in distaste. ''And end up drooling black sludge everywhere? No, thank you. This method works fine for the time being.''

Loki wondered why Retnick was opening up to him this way. He hadn't counted on this honest a dialogue, he had expected more evasiveness. The other man's candor was perplexing. It seemed that they were two acquaintances having a conversation and a glass of Scotch in the fading hours of the afternoon.

''This all has to be taking a terrible toll on you, this maintaining of your immortality. Having to reach into deeper and darker places each time to broker your deals,'' he ventured.

The man stared quietly out of the window where the setting sun was burning apart the sky in a bonfire of orange and gold.''We are willing to take chances for the things that we want,'' he answered vacantly. ''We focus on that hunger, not on the potential consequences. There must have been a terrible moment of fear and doubt in your mind when you chose her. But you couldn't help yourself, could you?''

Now Retnick was beginning to remind Loki of Skuld. He recalled a similar statement that she had made once, in a time that seemed now like a dream. And he was truly sick of power-hungry creatures implying that what he had done was some kind of sin, that he was a monster for not being able to help wanting Darcy. His voice was rather tight and bitter when he said, ''Not that you really need to know any of this, but what happened to Lucy was purely accidental. I used certain abilities that I possess to link her mind to mine because it was either that or lose her. The rest of her...transformation, as I told you, was random. I didn't make it happen.''

A light smile crept around the corners of Retnick's mouth. ''But you _desired_ it. You would never have taken so great a step if you didn't. And tell me...once you connected to her, once you felt her that closely...you knew that you could never let her go. I understand that. We are brothers, you and I.''

''I already have one brother I'm not fond of,'' Loki said easily, though he was trying very hard to ignore the truth in the other man's words. ''Two just might be overkill.''

He laughed.''Well, then at least we are comrades in _will_. A will that not everyone can understand. I'm not doing this merely for myself.'' A pause. The leader's posture grew stooped for a moment. ''Do you have any idea what you would become without her, old boy?'' he added with a rough chuckle. ''You'd positively make me look like a saint.''

Loki recalled how just hours before he had felt just the tiniest brush of the madness that would be possible if Darcy was taken from he said, in a quiet voice: ''She asked me if we would die at the same time.''

''For your sakes, I hope that you do,'' replied Retnick. He raised his glass. ''To love.''


	7. Chapter 7

_The woods around it have it-it is theirs._

_ All animals are smothered in their lairs._

_ I am too absent-spirited to count; _

_The loneliness includes me unawares_

-**Robert Frost**

**Sunday, 3pm**

Loki had gone off to speak to Retnick privately, so Darcy tried to continue on with her explorations undaunted, even though she was still very anxious about what had happened the night before. She forced her mind onto the task at hand, pulling out her notebook and writing down her vision of the little girl. ''_It eats moonlight_,'' that was what she had said. Thankfully, Darcy didn't have to worry about anyone seeing the contents of her notebook or her phone, Loki had put a cloaking spell on both of them. As she walked by the parlor, she saw that Penelope and Jason were sitting inside.

Penelope seemed to be having a hard time walking, that was the latest creepy development in her transformation. She'd often simply drop down onto all fours and crouch there, staring around. Jason had apparently taken on the role of protector, caring for her as if she were some sort of strange pet. He sat her down on one of the chairs and had begun brushing her hair, pausing every so often to wipe the black liquid away from her lips. ''Don't you look lovely,'' he cooed at her. ''Aren't you so happy, Penny? You're so lucky...''

Darcy suppressed a shudder at the odd scene and kept moving down the hall until she reached the study where Cloud could typically be found sitting and reading at this time of the day. Sure enough, she was there, curled up on the window seat, looking smaller, like a child, silhouetted against the sunlight that was pouring through the window.

''Hey Cloud, can I ask you something real quick?'' She walked into the room and sat down beside her on the cushioned seat.

The girl's head popped up from the book she was reading. ''Sure,'' she replied. Darcy noticed that Cloud looked a little paler than usual, more drawn, as if she hadn't been sleeping well. ''Z was the last person before Penelope to be chosen for Restoration, right?''

She gave a slow nod in response. ''And can you give me an approximate time frame as to when that was?'' continued Darcy.

''Almost a month ago,'' Cloud answered, ducking her head back down.

Almost a month would have meant that Z's Restoration had also taken place during a new moon. That couldn't be a coincidence. ''Ok, thanks.''

''Sure thing,'' replied the girl airily. She stared out the window, looked suddenly very far away.

''Are you feeling ok, hon?'' Darcy asked in a gentle voice. ''You look really tired.''

''I haven't been sleeping the best,'' Cloud admitted, still staring. Then she abruptly turned and looked right at Darcy. ''Are _you_ ok? I saw what happened last night.'' She cocked her head to the side, studying her.

Darcy made a show of shrugging. ''I'm ok. I'm not sure what that was...it was pretty scary.''

'It seemed to be,'' Cloud replied. She didn't say anything after that, just continued to stare. It wasn't a creepy look, just a sad and curious one.

''I think I might go for a walk,'' Darcy attempted to change the subject. ''It seems nice outside right now. Do you want to come with me?'' She figured a little fresh air and sunlight might do the girl some good.

Cloud shook her head. ''No, thanks. Not right now. I think I'm just gonna stay here for awhile.''

''Ok.'' Darcy got up to leave. As she was walking out, Cloud said, ''It might be too late to shut the door. It's been open too long. The doorway has gotten wider each time.''

* * *

Darcy walked determinedly across the yard and over to the place where the path ran into the woods. As she went, she thought about Cloud's statement, the mournful tone of the young woman's voice. It made her all the more sure that she needed to find out everything that she could about what was going to happen to Penelope in just a few hours. Sucking in a deep breath, she twisted the ring on her finger, feeling comforted by its presence and then began to follow that worn path. It led her under a heavy canopy of rustling leaves, twigs and moss, darkness and shadows, brief light spilling thinly down between the branches. Everything felt very alive, aware. As if each tree had an open eye that was following her movements.

Darcy's heart pounded wildly, but she continued to follow the trail of worn ground until she could see a clearing up ahead. It led to an open patch of land, a field. Several yards away there stood a great tree, huge and gnarled and ancient, waiting and listening. Beyond the tree still was another building, older than all of the others on the property, made of stone. It looked far too large to be a shed or even a cottage. Darcy wondered what was inside. A sudden mad pang of trepidation made her falter, tremble, want to run. And she did so, feeling rather cowardly but promising herself that she would return and do some further investigating soon. Once she'd emerged from the woods and reached the main yard again she slowed back to a walk, chiding herself for being so anxious. A few feet away, turning the earth in one of the small gardens, was Ethan Montauk, the strange man that she'd met the day before.

''Hello there,'' he said, looking up at her with his odd half-smile and unbalanced features. ''Nice day, isn't it? Finally a bit of sun.''

''Why is the ground so dry?'' Darcy asked, noticing that the garden now contained parched and dying flowers, flowers that had just recently been in bloom. ''There's been so much rain...''

Ethan shook his head. ''The earth is different here. It's thirstier.'' He looked over toward the woods. ''Always gets worse just before, but I've never seen it this bad.''

''Just before what?''

''Before a Restoration.''

Darcy decided that she was going to get some clear information out of someone about what was to occur, and to do that she realized that she might need to ask the question in a different way. Asking 'what is Restoration' seemed as useless as asking what the meaning of life was. ''You have been here for a long time, obviously, just watching this shit go down,'' she began. ''So tell me...is Penelope going to die tonight? What is going to happen to her? Not _why_, not _how_, but _what_. I don't want vague metaphysical drivel, I just want a direct answer.'' Darcy was absurdly proud of herself for managing to work 'drivel' into a sentence, she'd been fond of the word for some time and was always looking for a chance to use it.

Ethan gave her a very sympathetic look, and then a murky sadness overtook his features. His eyes suddenly looked like the eyes of an old man. ''Let me be very frank with you, Miss Lucy. If you have some misguided idea in your mind that you can in any way stop what is going to occur, you need to abandon it right now. This is not a matter that you have any control over. The course now simply has to be run. It is what she _wants_, you have to understand that. It's a hard concept to wrap your mind around, I know. But this was Penelope's desire.''

''Her desire was to be possessed by an other-dimensional creature with tentacles?'' Darcy raised both her eyebrows and voice in disbelief. ''Her desire was to spit black ooze everywhere? I don't understand how that could be.''

''Don't _try_ to understand,'' Ethan said gently. ''It really isn't any of your business how she feels.''

''But she's going to get hurt!'' protested Darcy.

''Maybe you see it that way. But to her perhaps the reality is very different.'' He jabbed the trowel back into the dirt, turned it again.

''How can it be different? I saw that thing! It's a _monster._''

Ethan pushed his unruly hair out of his eyes, looked up at her again with a thoughtful expression.''Perhaps it is the monsters that are most in need of love.''

Darcy wanted to stamp her feet like an unruly child. ''Nobody around here can actually _tell_ me anything!'' She hated the fact that her voice had taken on a bit of a whining tone, but she was just so frustrated.

''There's something in this place that makes you want,'' Ethan continued, ignoring her exasperation. ''Makes you _crave_.Your deepest longing is amplified.''

His words made Darcy think back to the previous afternoon, when she and Loki had so suddenly and desperately needed each other, that feeling. It hadn't really gone away, just dulled itself down a bit. But the hunger was still there, simmering in her blood, underneath her skin.

''I'm sure you know what that feels like,'' he added, looking at her closely, as if he could see it behind her eyes, burning like a flame.

''I don't know what you mean,'' she told Ethan, putting her chin in the air a little and turning away, stalking back to the house with a defeated feeling weighing down her heart.

* * *

Penelope, or perhaps the thing inside of her, seemed to be very aware of the impending Restoration because her eyes kept darting excitedly towards the doors and windows. She was now sitting on the floor in the parlour, on her haunches as if ready to pounce. A kind of tension draped the air, clung to everything like a sheet. Jason seemed more and more delighted with each passing hour, as if he were getting some sort of weird vicarious thrill from Penelope's state. Cloud just looked disgusted and nervous, she was trying to lose herself in a book but every few minutes she would peek over the top at the possessed woman, then out the window, and then she'd duck back down again as if hiding. Loki was back from his talk with Retnick, and he seemed very quiet and distracted. Darcy made a note to ask him later what they had discussed.

Things were different the night of a Restoration. There was no nightly Circle, and there was very little dinner because everyone was encouraged to fast and meditate on the upcoming ritual. Which they would apparently not be present for. Darcy had learned that the final phase in Restoration was something very secret and private, witnessed only by Retnick, Penelope, and whatever she was becoming the Vessel for. The late afternoon faded into a somber evening, dark hours that dragged heavily on. There was very little said. Cloud excused herself early and went to bed. Retnick headed to his office to prepare some supplies. Penelope grew more and more twitchy and restless, her eyes darting toward the door, her limbs taut as if she were ready to bolt. And then she did, very suddenly, jumping up in a swift, almost inhuman movement and running through the foyer and out the door to the yard. Quickly, Darcy leapt to her feet and ran after her. ''Wait!'' Loki called, but she ignored him and followed Penelope into the darkness. A breeze tossed the tree branches, the leaves rustled as if murmuring. Halfway across the expanse of grass the woman stopped and looked at the sky.

''It eats moonlight,'' she hissed, darting out her tongue to lick at the air. Then she flopped down onto the grass, rolling and quivering, a weird moan rising up out of her throat. Darcy paused and stared for a moment, rooted to the spot with a nauseas apprehension. Loki caught up with her then, arriving at her side and staring down at the woman writhing on the ground.

''What do we do with her?'' Darcy asked desperately. ''We can't leave her out here...''

Suddenly they heard footsteps, turned and saw Jason and Retnick hurrying across the yard amid the darkness. ''Alright, Penelope, alright. Are you ready to go?'' the leader asked, almost cheerfully, as if he were dealing with an anxious and eager child. Her head swivelled in response, turning towards the woods.

''Yes,'' she hissed, an excited sound. She got to her feet in a single contorted motion that made her seem nearly boneless. ''All of you go back inside,'' Retnick instructed the rest of them. ''She doesn't need an audience.''

Darcy looked like she wanted to say something but Loki grabbed her by the arm and gently led her away. Jason followed them, though his eyes lingered on Retnick and Penelope as they disappeared into the shadows and the darkness.

As they returned to the house, they passed by the dining hall. The three blonde women were standing there motionless, facing the windows. They stared straight ahead, barely blinking at all. They were facing the woods, off in the direction that Retnick had gone.

* * *

Loki hadn't told Darcy about what he had discussed with Retnick, not yet. He was still processing it all himself, and he didn't want to worry her. She'd been so terrified by the possibility that he might know that they weren't who they claimed to be that he didn't quite know how to tell her that was true. Frankly, he didn't know where either of them stood with the leader. They weren't in any real danger personally, it seemed, but that could change if Retnick felt that they were becoming some kind of threat to his plans. But the tone of the conversation had been strangely friendly, as if Lugh simply wanted someone that he could discuss his honest intentions with. Perhaps he'd been playing the role of benevolent spiritual guide for too long and needed to show someone his true face. And who better to reveal that to than the god of mischief?

Regardless of what he and Darcy had learned so far, nothing was going to stop Penelope's Restoration from occurring, that had been made very clear. Loki was curious as to the format of the final ritual. Nobody else could be present for it, just Retnick and Penelope, and whatever was lurking eagerly beneath her skin. And it wasn't held anywhere inside the house—she was taken out into the woods somewhere. It was already after midnight and the house was quiet. Everyone had gone to bed, except for those three women, who were possibly still standing by the windows like a trio of sentinels keeping watch.

That night, after he finally managed to fall asleep, Loki had a very strange dream. He was in the room full of mirrors, a room that filled him with an inexplicable combination of intrigue and dread. As he leaned closer towards one, he saw reflected there a face like his, but different. Thin and pale, a leering mouth beneath hollow dark chasms of eyes. Like a shadow made flesh. It stared at him knowingly for several minutes, the empty eyes searing into his skin, branding him with a terrible sense of ominousness.

''Do you remember the first time that we were lied to?'' it asked. ''You knew it was a lie because it sounded different against the edges of their throat, a new intonation. The lie stands out brightly in an inexperienced liar. Over time you learned to monitor the tone. Control the muscles and the eyes, school the body into an organic naturalness until the day when you could scarcely even tell the difference between speaking falsely or true. As if it no longer mattered. She's made you oh so very slightly more aware. You're beginning to see the difference now.'' The apparition in the mirror leaned closer, his expression twisted. ''You want to feel something beautiful. Innocent. I understand that. A dream, a dream that we can be made better, that's all it is. But at the end of the day, we know what we really are.'' It bared its teeth, chuckled darkly.

''I am strong at the edges of your mind,'' it told Loki, the statement like an awful promise. ''You had better hold tight to her.''

'_'What is it?_'' He could hear Darcy's voice coming from far away. ''What's wrong?'' Concerned and faint, then stronger, more insistent. He felt a weight across his body. ''Stop now!'' she ordered loudly, and he obeyed. ''That's it,'' softer now. ''You're alright, you're safe.'' A warm hand rested against his face. ''Open your eyes. Look at me.''

Tentatively, Loki cracked his eyes open to see Darcy sitting on top of him, straddling his lower body with her legs, her hands on her shoulders, holding him still. He realized that he must have been thrashing in his sleep. ''There you are,'' she said with a smile, loosening her grip on him. Then the smile melted into an expression of concern. ''You were having a hell of a nightmare. You ok, baby?''

The god once thought that he'd never grow to like that particular term of endearment, but he'd been wrong. ''I'm fine,'' he said, trying to will away the shivery, dark feeling throughout his blood, forget the sight of that face in the mirror. She looked down at him, her eyes swimming with doubt. ''Ok,'' she relented, climbing off of him and laying back down in bed. Loki heard her sigh as she stared at the ceiling, then saw her gaze flicker over to the window. ''Do you think Penelope is ok?''

He didn't answer.

Neither one slept very well for the rest of the night, and Darcy had a blurry, anxious feeling crawling under her skin when she climbed out of bed the next morning. There was no sunlight streaming through the windows, just dark clouds clustered everywhere and the tapping sound of rain against the glass. She recalled the dying flowers, wondered if now that Penelope's Restoration was over they would flourish, if the earth would be satisfied for awhile. That sound of rain still haunted her, though, even after all this time, still made her feel like she was dreaming.

She hurriedly dressed. ''I don't know what you're in such a rush for,'' Loki commented. His voice sounded tired and thick. ''I don't think Penelope's going to be here regardless.''

Darcy paused in pulling on one of her boots. ''Why? What do you mean?''

He shrugged. ''I just have a feeling. I don't think she's anywhere in this house. Whatever took over her body left a kind of distinct energetic impression—I'm sure you could sense it too, you just weren't aware of it. There was a heaviness, a smell of copper.'' The god shook his head. ''There's none of that here now. It doesn't mean that she's dead or that anything overly horrible has befallen her, she's just...somewhere else.''

After taking a few moments to concentrate, she realized that he was right. ''Well, even so...'' she said. ''An early start never hurt anyone.''

At this statement, he gave her a quizzical look. ''Are you feeling alright?''

''I have a renewed sense of vigor and purpose,'' she stated, squaring her shoulders.

''Oh. I see.'' Loki tried to hide an amused smile. ''That must be wonderful for you.'' He reached out a hand. ''Come here.'' Darcy obliged, walking over to where he was sitting on the bed. He put his hands on her arms, stared deeply into her eyes. ''What have you been up to?'' he asked. ''What do you know?''

She hadn't told him about her trip into the woods. Or about the phantom little girl. She knew that if she did he would just worry, tell her not to go wandering off. He had a tendency to get a bit overprotective. But then again, it wasn't as though he didn't have a reason to be.

''You haven't been...exploring anything dangerous, have you?''

''No.'' Darcy shook her head. ''I just have a few suspicions that I'm trying to work out.''

''Alright,'' Loki said slowly. He rubbed a hand over his face, sighed. ''We really should sit down together at some point today though and discuss what we've found so far. Try to decide how to proceed next.''

''Ok,'' she replied.

The first person that Darcy saw when they went downstairs was Jason. He was sitting calmly in the parlor, flipping through a magazine. When he saw her, the young man smiled widely. ''Hi Lucy,'' he said, setting it down and getting to his feet. ''Did you sleep well?'' Before she could answer the smile began to slide just a little, becoming more pinched and forced.

Darcy felt Loki standing behind her, felt his hand on her shoulder. ''Yeah, pretty well,'' she replied, looking around. The house seemed very quiet this morning, the tapping of the rain against the windows sounded unnaturally loud.

''Where is Penelope?'' Darcy asked, trying to keep a casual tone in her voice.

''She's recovering,'' replied Jason.

''Recovering where? Is she ok?''

Retnick now strode into the room and walked over to stand beside Jason. ''Penelope did very well,'' he answered. The look on his face told her that was as good an answer as she was going to get.

''Lucy,'' he said, greeting Darcy with a smile. ''Don't you look pretty today.''

''Thank you,'' she mumbled, attempting at a pleasant expression. The leader seemed to be in remarkably good spirits this morning, and he looked...slightly _younger_, if that was possible, some of the stress lines that had gathered on his face the past two days had vanished and he looked strong and healthy. He smiled at the three of them. ''Why don't we sit here and talk,'' he said, gesturing around. ''The mirror room needs some maintenance, and since there are so few of us we might be more comfortable in an informal setting.''

Darcy noticed that the scarred girl was nowhere to be seen. ''Where's Cloud?'' she asked. Retnick looked up the stairway. ''She's not feeling well again, the poor thing.'' He shook his head. ''Such a fragile young woman. It's rather sad.'' Then he briskly turned and waved a hand toward the chairs by the fireplace. ''Shall we?''

''Lucy, you're particularly interested in the origin of things,'' the leader started once they'd all taken a seat. He fixed his pale blue eyes on Darcy as he spoke. ''You want to know where they come from, correct?''

She nodded, inwardly squirming at being singled out. ''Do you think that its more important to know where something began or _why_ it began?'' he continued.

''I...uh...I think that sometimes when you look for the answer to one of those questions, you find the answer to the other as well,'' Darcy answered after considering it for a moment. ''If you know the origin of something then you can at least put it into context. Once you have that, then you can take steps towards understanding it.''

Retnick gave a nod. ''Looking back is easier, some might argue. You might go digging and find a pile of bones and some ritual objects and once you put a date to them you can guess who put them there. Perhaps it was a group that practiced ritual sacrifice, and so the bones and tools and the whole scene would make sense. In the past, for some, this was common. And for them, necessary. So that context creates a nice, safe box in which you can place these things. But what if, for example, in the present day one were to go digging and discover a similar scene but from much more recent times?''

''What, you mean if someone discovered evidence of a recent ritual sacrifice? That...would prompt a murder investigation.''

''Why?'' he responded, leaning forward. ''Why does the _when_ create the context and not the _why_? What makes an ancient pile of bones more excusable than a new one?''

Darcy huffed in exasperation at the line of questioning. She didn't really want to get into an ethical debate first thing in the morning, but if she had to, then she was at least going to make it a good one. ''Anthropologists don't...make excuses for or condone...human sacrifice. We know that certain cultures practiced it. That's a fact. To them, it was...necessary. To ensure a harvest, maybe, or to appease their gods in some way. Most of those cultures existed _thousands _of years ago. Today, we understand things like _weather._ We know that we're not dependent on some deity for our livelihoods. So, if you take away that context...''

''Then the behavior is inexcusable?''

''Yes. Then it's just plain old murder, like I said.'' Darcy was starting to wonder if maybe he was somehow trying to confess to something. But she knew he was way too smart for that. No, Retnick was testing her somehow, playing some kind of mind game, but she wasn't sure why.

* * *

After the discussion was thankfully over, Darcy felt herself growing annoyed and a little sulky. She didn't like the way that she'd been ambushed, but was confident that she'd held her own. Jason seemed to think so too, because he kept staring at her with a stupid, admiring expression that made her want to kick him. Loki had been listening to the entire debate of course, and he was quite proud of Darcy and her clear-headed, succinct responses. But he was also wondering about something. ''What happened in the room with the mirrors?'' he asked the leader. Retnick stared at him thoughtfully, then answered. ''They need cleaning from time to time. I'm sure you know that mirrors are, historically, gateways to the spirit world. Particularly on land like this, that tends to...generate more of that sort of activity. The mirrors in this house, and that room, they're very active. And so we take care to make sure that they're properly maintained. We do _try_ to watch some of the doors, you know.'' Then he turned abruptly. ''Lucy?'' he called. Darcy whirled around. ''What?'' she asked, trying not to snap. She was desperately needing caffeine in order to process all of the thoughts pounding at her mind.

Retnick smiled. ''If you go into the kitchen, there is some coffee prepared.''

She looked at him in surprise, not expecting the pleasantness. ''Uh...thanks,'' she replied, feeling a bit better with the mention of her favourite beverage.

The kitchen was very large. All of the equipment was very modern and polished. There was no sign yet of the three women, but there was a carafe of coffee sitting on the marble counter. Darcy opened cabinets until she found a mug and then poured some in, watching the dark liquid sluice against the sides of the ceramic cup. Gratefully, she inhaled the steam and then took a sip. Damn, but the house was eerie when it rained, she noticed. They turned up the lights in an attempt, she supposed, to make everything seem more cozy but it didn't really work. The whole space just felt like it was listening. It reminded her briefly again of first arriving on Asgard, when she had felt that the shadows were following her, watching her.

She tried to shake it off, taking her coffee and wandering into the dining room. It seemed even larger now that it was empty, the high ceiling loomed with more intensity, the long table seemed to stretch farther. And then there were those curious stained-glass windows. She approached one to get a closer look. The glasswork was so intricate. She wondered if they were an original part of the house or if they'd been put in more recently, it was honestly difficult to tell. The largest window featured an image of a tree, its branches reaching out. In the trunk of the tree there was an eye. Darcy wondered what that particular symbolism meant. It called to mind Yggdrasil, but there were other world mythologies that spoke of a tree of life, trees were a common theme. So were eyes, for that matter. Still, she shivered as she was instantly reminded of the tree that she had seen in the field beyond the woods, and that strange building beside it. Darcy was willing to bet that was where Retnick had taken Penelope for her Restoration.

At the furthest end of the dining room, there was a small, narrow passage that had previously gone unnoticed. Stepping carefully inside, she saw that it was a stairwell. She climbed it, following it up for what seemed like a long time. It led to an old, dusty corridor in a part of the house that she'd never seen before. At the end of the hall was a door. Tentatively, she approached it, reaching out and turning the large knob. It was locked, of course. There was, however, a crack like a peep hole, large enough to look through.

Darcy bent down a little to gaze through the crack in the door. At first she could see nothing, just a slash of dim gray light. There came a flicker of movement, and then the little girl appeared, staring back at her. Darcy jumped back, startled. After taking a moment to catch her breath and calm her clamouring heart, she reached for the knob again. When she tried it this time, surprisingly, the door opened with a creak, allowing her into the dusty room. A old-fashioned rocking horse, a child's toy, sat on the wooden floor. A doll was propped on a chair beside it. A small bag of marbles lay there also. The room looked like it hadn't been used in quite some time, except for the toys it was mostly empty and covered with a film of dust. Faded wallpaper peeled along the walls and an old, thin sheet hung over the window as a curtain, filtering the dim daylight and casting everything in a ghostly hue. Darcy saw that there was a large wooden cupboard on one wall, swaddled in cobwebs. Curious, she walked over and pulled it open. On one of the shelves inside, there sat several framed black and white photographs.

The first photo was of two men in English World War II army uniforms. A peculiar chill ran through Darcy as she recognized one of them instantly. There was a small caption in black ink on the bottom. ''Dr.s Retnick and Haven,'' it read. There was another beside it, featuring three men this time, all in uniform. They were all smiling, seemed to be at a bar celebrating something. The photo also showed Retnick and this Dr. Haven, but also a smaller man who was sporting a bandage over one eye. ''_Ethan_,'' she whispered disbelievingly. And then, in a delicate gold frame, there was a third picture. A little girl with long hair, wearing an old-fashioned dress, half-smiling primly.

Darcy heard footsteps behind her and her heart plummeted in fear. Turning around, she let out a relieved sigh when she saw that it wasn't Retnick, but rather Ethan Montauk.

''You really are a bold and curious thing,'' he said, almost amused. ''Retnick does not take kindly to his privacy being invaded, so I'd be very careful if I were you.''

''The little girl in the picture,'' Darcy asked pleadingly. ''Who is she?''

His mouth set in a line. ''Anna-Lily Jones,'' Ethan replied. ''Retnick's adopted daughter.'' He sighed deeply, looked older, sadder too if that was possible. ''She's where all of this madness began.''

''Tell me. _Please_,'' begged Darcy. She needed to know the story behind these photographs, obviously they were a key to Retnick's past and the larger mystery of Restoration. Ethan stared at her for a long moment, then caved. ''Oh, all right. I never could resist a curvy brunette.'' He heaved another sigh and then began. ''I'm sure that you know by now that Retnick and I are much...older than we actually look,'' he said, nodding toward the pictures on the shelf. ''We fought in the Second World War together—we were army doctors, and quite good friends. Even back then, Lugh was obsessed with the idea of immortality, he said it was what made him want to become a physician in the first place. He truly believed that science and medicine would advance so far during our lifetime that it would be possible.''

Ethan laughed his trademark grim laugh. ''Of course at that point science was too busy figuring out new and wonderful ways to kill us all, rather than extend our lives. Still, Retnick was undaunted. Began experimenting with the newer technology of cryogenics—mostly on animals at first. Then he rescued a little girl during the Blitz. Her parents had been killed, and she had no living relatives. So he took her in. He was calmer for awhile. He loved that little girl so much, doted on her. He liked having someone to take care of, someone who would love him back. And then, as cruel fate would have it, she became deathly ill with leukaemia. There was nothing that Retnick or I or anyone else could do about it—Anna-Lily was going to die. I think that was when Retnick began bargaining with the dark side. The sicker the girl became, the more Lugh became convinced that he could save her. Right up until the end.''

''What happened then?'' asked Darcy.

''He went mad, I suppose. Drank all of the time, became a disheveled mess, a shell of his former self. Holed up in the house all the time with his _books_.'' A shudder passed through Ethan's thin frame. ''We rarely saw him, except for some nights. Joe Haven-he's the other man in the pictures there-and I were out at the bar and we saw him from the window, heading into the alley where the...ladies of the night typically sought customers. We saw him leave with one of them. The next night she'd returned, but she didn't look right. Her eyes seemed strange, it was like she was in a daze. She'd cough and spit what looked like black tar. After that, nobody ever saw her again. He was back again less than a week later, took another girl. She never came back at all. I guess the whores started to catch on because they started spreading the word to stay away from Retnick, nobody would go with him after that, no matter how much he offered. I suppose that taught him a lesson, because he changed his tactic. Learned a little _subtlety._''

''He learned how to fish, you mean.''

''Something like that,'' Ethan said with a light nod. ''And then he reappeared, looking stronger and healthier than we'd ever seen him. Spouting off all kinds of nonsense about how he had learned all these great secrets, the way to live forever. Wild, dark, heretical stuff. Aleister Crowley wouldn't even have wanted to be_ near_ him, that's how off the wall some of his ideas sounded. But Joe was intrigued. And I have to admit, I was as well.''

''Why did Retnick make you immortal too?'' asked Darcy.

''Because,'' Ethan said softly, ''he was lonely.'' He picked up the photograph off of the shelf, the one with him, Retnick and Haven in the bar, rowdy and smiling. ''It's hard to watch your friends grow old and die while you stay frozen in youth. We scarcely even had a say in the matter.''

''What happened to Joe?'' she wondered, staring at the other man's face in the photo, trying to wrap her mind around this story.

A darkness clouded over Ethan's face. ''Something went wrong during the ritual. Both Haven, and the Vessel, whatever poor bastard that was, both died. Lugh took this very hard, especially considering that Joe had something that he very much needed.''

Darcy was intrigued. ''And what was that?''

''A portion of a book, a very, very old grimoire,'' he replied. ''See, what Retnick is doing wasn't exactly a new idea, sorcerers had been attempting it since the Middle Ages. It was heresy of the highest order, and so was passed along in secret. Lugh made it a point to collect as many of these books as he could find. Theft was not out of the realm of possibility if he wanted it badly enough, and some of the grimoire's he acquired were done so using less than legal methods. War has a funny way of unearthing a lot of old and buried things, and Joe happened to stumble across the book—it had been pilfered from the rubble of a church, if you can believe that. Haven knew that this tome contained the exact incantations that Retnick needed to complete his work. He hid it.''

''Why did he hide it?''

''Nobody knows for sure. For awhile I thought that it was because Joe was afraid of Retnick, of what he was becoming. But then I began to suspect that his motives had more to do with _her_.''

''Who?''

''Joe was in love with a woman, madly in love. The war had left him badly rattled, made him acutely aware of how fragile life was. Like Retnick, like all of us. We had to stare directly into the face of our own mortality every day. Some learned to deal with it better than others. Joe wanted to live forever, and he wanted his lover to live forever too. But on his terms, not Retnick's. And so he tore out the pages that Retnick needed, then gave him the book.''

''Did Retnick know what Joe did?''

''I always believed so.'' Ethan hung his head. ''I always also wondered if Joe's death really was an accident.''

A long, silent pause hung in the air. The weight of memory and time clustered above and all around them like a canopy. Darcy looked again at the photo of Anna-Lily, at the toys on the floor that must have belonged to her, long ago. She could almost hear a whisper of a song, out of the ether. Along with it came the blunt and alarming feeling that she'd only gotten part of the story, that so much still remained buried, waiting to be coaxed to life.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey guys! Sorry about the small update gap-work has been crazy! Here is the next chapter for you guys, I hope that you all like it! Please let me know what you think! :)**

* * *

_it is funny, you will be dead some day_

_By you the mouth hair eyes, and i mean_

_the unique and nervously obscene_

_need; it's funny. They will all be dead._

**-e.e. cummings**

Darcy wasn't sure what to do. She was very quiet at lunch that day, couldn't stop thinking about what Ethan had told her. Those photographs, the toys locked away in that dusty room—these haunted her mind. As did poor Penelope, who hadn't yet returned. Retnick's keen eyes seemed focused on Cloud now, who was beginning to look frailer than ever. She hunched over her plate tiredly, holding the fork in her hand as if it were the weight of an anvil. There was a very sad, blank look in her gray eyes, the look of someone losing a battle. Loki had grown quiet as well, very thoughtful—or perhaps troubled. She remembered him thrashing during that nightmare. He hadn't told her what he had been dreaming of, hadn't told her much of anything at all. Usually Darcy was the one who succumbed to bad dreams.

The afternoon brought a darkening sky and no answers, no Penelope. Loki retreated to their room while Darcy remained downstairs. After chewing her fingernails and pondering her next move, she decided to go out into the yard. She walked by one of the gardens, saw that despite Ethan's best efforts and Penelope's Restoration the earth was still hungry because the flowers once again looked parched and sickly. On an impulse, she knelt down and then lay on the ground, stretching out, staring up at the sky. Darcy had done this quite often as a child, she liked to watch the clouds moving. She would become almost hypnotized by it, after awhile she would begin to feel as if she were falling up into the sky, losing herself amid the blue and grey. The ground seemed to acknowledge her presence, hummed beneath her as if speaking. And then the feeling once again began to creep along her skin like vines, a deep and urgent feeling of want, of hunger. It was a palpable energy that spread all over her. Everything else began to wash away—there were no photographs, no immortal men and ghostly children. No Penelope, nothing. Just the sky and the earth and her heart beating and the _wanting_.

Darcy got to her feet and quickly went inside.

Loki had decided that he didn't like the trees, the woods that surrounded the mansion. They seemed to be growing darker and more far-reaching, the path to the main road seeming farther and farther away. The whole place was much too aware, he could feel it like pinpricks along his skin. This wasn't the scenario that he had intended to find himself in when they had accepted this assignment. He hadn't expected it all to be...well, as real as it now was. And he certainly hadn't been anticipated these new feelings of unease that were cropping up in his mind, in his dreams. Fortunately, he didn't require as much sleep as a human, so hopefully dreams could be avoided for the next few days. He needed to be very conscious of his surroundings.

Sitting down at the desk in their room, Loki tried to take inventory of everything that he and Darcy had learned since arriving. Yet he found that it was surprisingly difficult to concentrate. His mind felt weary and foggy. He wondered where Darcy was, felt a pang of emptiness and worry. He didn't know where she'd been running off to, and he prayed that she wasn't doing anything dangerous, wasn't going to get herself into trouble. He still hadn't told her about his conversation with Retnick, and he wasn't exactly sure why he kept putting it off. He wasn't sure of a lot of things, and that was not a comfortable thing to admit. Loki found himself staring out the window, looking out towards the trees, at the mercurial sky that always seemed to be on the verge of spitting down rain even when the day had dawned brightly. He lost himself in thought for what might have been hours until he heard the door open and saw Darcy enter.

''I feel like I haven't seen you in days,'' he whispered softly, blinking as if he were waking up. Relief and hunger washed over him in turn as he reached for her, pulling her close.

''I'm right here,'' she replied, reaching up to trail her fingertips along his face. ''Always right here.'' Darcy brought her mouth against his, feeling that unique pulse of electricity that came when they touched.

She sucked at his lips, absorbing, memorizing the taste that was_ him_—the shape, the feel, everything. She bit down, felt him draw in a gasping breath. She raked her fingers through his hair, yanking. He growled, looked at her with those glorious icy eyes. It was just them, in a place that only they knew, a place where time stopped.

''I'm going to devour you,'' Loki promised, and his gaze burned straight to her core. ''Utterly and completely.''

''Do it,'' she replied, relaxing her body, opening her mind, leaving herself raw before him, begging him to chase away all of the dark and horrible things that she'd seen, the nightmarish images lingering in her mind.

''Show me what I want to see. Show me every inch of you.'' His voice dripped with dark want. Darcy removed her clothes, let them fall to the floor. She watched a shiver go through him. She was drenched, throbbing. Her skin was so sensitive that it felt as though she might go crashing to pieces once he finally touched her.

Loki slid down onto his knees in front of her, shifted her legs apart. She braced herself against the cool wall, opening further to give him better access. His tongue darted out to lick languidly along her before quickly massaging her clit and then snaking to slide inside of her, in and out, in and out until she was whimpering and shaking, her fingers buried in his hair, scratching at his scalp. ''Breathe slowly,'' he said, pausing, looking up at her with darkened eyes, the sight of him between her legs sending a new wave of arousal up her spine. ''Let it happen.'' Darcy leaned her head back, let him continue, licking and sucking relentlessly, every time she got closer he changed, shifted rhythm, carrying her somewhere else. Faster, faster, almost, almost, close, _yes_-

He pulled away, stood up in a brisk motion and then scooped her up into his arms and tossed her onto the bed with a gentle aggression. She loved seeing him like that, the dark look in his eyes, promising wicked and wonderful things. Loki climbed onto the bed then, leaning over her. His lips fastened to her neck, sucking, biting. Her heart was pounding out its frantic music, she was lightheaded with desire. And as always, everything was so quiet when he was with her.

''My sweet, beautiful girl,'' he whispered, his breath cool against her skin. ''So soft, so lovely. The taste of you…'' Darcy writhed underneath him in response to his words. His eyes burned into hers.

''You are mine. Mine, do you hear me?'' Loki demanded as he reached up to pin her hands together above her head. She moaned and arched her back, her breasts rubbing against his chest. She really did get quite turned on by this possessive side of him, the barely-restrained wildness. The _need._

''Yes,'' she gasped out. ''Yes, I'm yours.'' As he finally thrust inside of her, she briefly recalled Ethan's words from the day before. _Your greatest longing is amplified. _

Afterward, they lay together on the bed, her head resting on his chest. Loki played with a strand of Darcy's hair, ran his fingers down her bare back.

''Wouldn't it be nice if we never had to open that door?'' she remarked softly. ''If we could just lay here and forget where we are?''

He breathed quietly for a moment, then said, ''Like that room in Norway?''

It swam through her memory in bits of faded colour, the bed, the wallpaper, the sound of rain. The strange peacefulness that accompanied not knowing who she was and not having to know, needing only to exist. It felt like a dream now, an old and comfortable dream that she always tried to recall for fear that one day it would slip away. ''Do you think about it?'' asked Darcy.

''All the time,'' he admitted.

She raised her head and looked up at him. ''It's strange to remember _not _remembering.''

He smiled at her, then the smile began to falter just a little.

''The curse of a very long life is the forgetting. In time, your memories will dull and fade, even the sharpest. They'll come back only in distant scraps of a dream. Something might bring them back. A song. A scent. The changing of a season or the way that light reflects off of water. They will come back, but only partway. Until the day when they can no longer be recalled.'' Loki's voice was thick, sad-sounding. ''There is so much that you will forget. And I am sorry.''

Darcy didn't say anything for a moment, but she thought of Jane and their last conversation. She thought of Natasha and Tony and Erik. And then she thought about walking through the cemetery, the silence there. ''As long as we have each other, I think I can live with forgetting,'' she told him.

The god's lips curved upwards in another half-smile as he silently prayed that was true.

Then she looked at the door again and sighed. ''Retnick knows about us, doesn't he?''

She felt Loki tense underneath her. ''Yes,'' he replied. ''Or at least he knows that we work for SHIELD and that we're clearly not Lucy and William O'Neal.''

Darcy decided that it was time to tell him what she'd discovered in the hidden room. ''He's immortal.''

Loki nodded. ''Yes, he is. I gleaned as much from the conversation that we had. And the price for that immortality is these people. Life for life. He's deluded himself into truly believing that they've chosen this of their own free will and he's nothing more than a lucky facilitator of their greatest desire.'' He scoffed. ''I suppose we must lie to appease our consciences.''

''He's going to need more people soon,'' she remarked as a light shudder ran through her body. ''There's not that many of us left.'' Darcy hesitated a moment. ''Do you think that-''

''He doesn't want us,'' Loki cut in quickly. ''At least not for Restoration. He can't use us that way.''

She blinked at him. ''Why not?''

''Apparently we can't be used as Vessels. Because of…of the way that we are.''

''Oh.'' That was at least mildly comforting to Darcy. ''But even so, more people are going to wind up the same as Penelope…there has to be some way that we can stop him.''

''That's jumping the gun a little,'' replied Loki. ''We don't know _how_ to stop him because we don't know all the details of how he does what he does. This is very dark magick that has taken years and years to harness exactly right. And we don't even really know _what_ happened to Penelope. We need to wait and gather more information.''

''Alright,'' Darcy agreed. She ran her fingers along his chest. ''But not just yet. I need to hold you for a little bit longer. You're the only thing that makes sense. The only thing I want.''

* * *

Being with Darcy had cleared Loki's head, as it always seemed to, made him feel healthier and more focused, more like himself. Some of the foggy unease had briefly lifted, and he could think more clearly. He'd decided that his next move would be to learn more about the land itself. It seemed that it served as a type of energetic amplifier for whatever rituals Retnick was performing. Any type of magick that dark and intense needed very specific conditions in which to work properly. And usually those conditions involved some very dark things. As he passed by an open door in the hallway, he saw Cloud sitting in her typical spot. But there was no open book in front of her today. The girl leaned helplessly against the window, looking out across the yard toward the woods. She had the look of a prisoner facing execution.

''Why don't you run away?'' he asked her softly, stepping into the room.

Cloud's gaze darted fearfully towards the door, then out the window again. ''If I run...'' she whispered, ''the trees will see.''

Something in her voice made Loki abruptly uncomfortable. ''What are you talking about?''

''There's something very strange out in the woods. And if you run away from here, it finds you. Trust me,'' she added softly, her gray eyes wide, her shoulders trembling. ''Retnick isn't the worst thing on this land. I've decided...I think...I think that I should just accept Restoration.'' She slumped forward, wrapped her skinny arms around herself.

''Nonsense,'' he said firmly. ''There has to be another way. Just leave by the front door and don't go near the woods.''

The girl looked at him with great sympathy, as if she found him terribly naïve. ''That's not how it works.'' She shivered. ''You have to choose. One way in, one way out. And then the gate is closed. Forever.''

Loki pondered her words, said nothing.

''Maybe I'll get lucky,'' she continued. ''Maybe the Restoration will kill me. At least then someone might find my body. They've been watching you too,'' Cloud whispered, her face ashen. ''I see them.''

* * *

Given Penelope's disappearance and whatever was apparently happening to Cloud, Darcy decided that she was simply going to have to summon all of her courage and see just what was being kept inside that old building out in the woods. She knew that there was something important there, but still it filled her with a cold and inexplicable fear and dread. Leaves and twigs crunched under her feet as she moved through the forest, the trees seemed to acknowledge her presence as she passed beneath their branches and made her way out the other side into the clearing where that huge tree loomed, and beyond it the stone building stood. There was a latch on the door, which lifted easily.

It opened with a creak. The floor was little more than dirt. It reeked of musty darkness and something else, a sour, coppery smell. As she turned a corner into a hallway, she glimpsed movement in the darkness, heard a sound. Darcy moved closer and the light streamed through the window just enough for her to see what was was a person shackled to the wall. The girl scarcely looked human anymore, was little more than a wraith. Her eyes were yellow, sunken. Papery skin stretched grotesquely over her bones. Her breath came quickly in terrible hissing gasps.

Darcy had to will herself not to be sick.

''You're...you're Z,'' she said, overtaken by a sudden awful _knowing_, the kind that was never wrong.

At the sound of her name, there came an odd glimmer, a small spark of recognition came leaping. Before it could die away, her faint voice rasped. ''Kill me. Please.'' Dark fluid gurgled out of her mouth. She reached out helplessly. The chains rattled against the floor. ''Kill me.''

A few steps down the hall there was another room, more like a cell, with bars on the door and windows. There was a person inside, lying on the floor. She wasn't chained, though, and when she sensed Darcy approach she bent and got to her feet in a single strange, contorted movement. Though she was altered beyond belief, she made Darcy's eyes widen in instant recognition. ''Penelope?'' she whispered in a shaking voice.

''No,'' the voice answered, that thick, dark, hissing voice. ''Not anymore. But she is here, though. I am holding her, holding her close.''

''What are you?'' Darcy asked, backing up just a little. ''Why won't you let her go?''

The creature looked at her strangely. ''She doesn't want me to. She is mine. I am taking care of her, she belongs with me.'' Hands ran along her body and face, almost lovingly. ''I have never been so wanted before. She gave me her body and her soul. And now we are one.''

''She can't want this,'' whispered Darcy.

It continued to stare at her searchingly with its revolting eyes. ''When your beloved touches you, do you not tremble with delight? Do you not crave him, long for him inside of you?''

''That is completely different,'' she answered in a small, deadly quiet voice.

It just smiled. Darcy continued to walk, walking away from Penelope's cell. The creature's eyes continued to follow her as she went. There were more, she realized in horror, more cells stretching down a long corridor. And inside of each one there was a person—or what had previously been a person. This was a prison, a prison where the 'successful' Restorations were kept. Some of them were chained, some were not. A few stared and were silent. Others reached out their hands and spoke, sometimes in English, sometimes in unfamiliar languages. She turned, and ran.

The sun had slipped completely behind a dark, mean cluster of clouds as a few small drops of rain began to fall.

Ethan Montauk was once again standing in the yard. As soon as he saw Darcy stalking towards him from the path, saw the stricken look on her face, he said, ''You've been to the woods.'' It wasn't a question.

''Why is he keeping them out there?'' Her voice was a rough gasp.

''Their Restorations worked,'' he replied simply. His voice was like ashes. ''Whatever they became Vessels for won't let go. They must be so happy to finally have a body that they've grafted themselves so strongly to the human bodies that nothing can be done.''

''What do you mean, 'nothing can be done?' '' demanded Darcy. ''What about like...performing an exorcism or something. One of you guys must know how to do one.''

''It's too late for that,'' Ethan said, shaking his head. ''And it wouldn't have worked anyway. You're not dealing with a run of the mill beastie like a lesser demon or a rogue angry ghost. These things are powerful. There's a reason that they're ordinarily locked away, far from us. There's a reason that we're damned. No, those things are never going to leave Z or any of the others. And they won't let them die, either. The beings are comfortable right where they are. So...there's nothing that can be done. They've grafted to those poor bastards like transplanted bone marrow.''

''And you just stand by and let this happen?''

He looked almost hurt. ''It's not that _simple_, Lucy, there is more going on here than you know.''

She gave Ethan a ragged, furious look and then turned and hurried back to the house. Since the leader apparently knew all about them, continuing on with this charade wouldn't do anyone any favours. Her heart slammed uncomfortably in her chest as her hands practically shook with anxiety and anger both.

As Darcy stormed into Retnick's office and took a seat without being asked, the leader looked up at her and gave a sigh.

''I very much have enjoyed your company my dear, but your attitude could definitely use a bit of improvement.'' He glared at her as if she were a misbehaving child.

''How do you expect me to improve my attitude, given everything that I know now?'' She raised an eyebrow at him.

''You don't know everything,'' Retnick waved his hand dismissively. ''Not even close. I know that you've been talking to an old friend of mine. All you have heard, my girl, is bits of gossip and some very old stories. Not enough of anything to take back with you.''

Darcy decided for the time being to keep quiet about her visit to the prison in the woods. ''I know why you're doing this. Ethan told me. It's because of Anna-Lily, right?'' He looked at her with a very empty expression on his face. He was quiet for a moment, quiet like a graveyard.

Then he leaned back in his chair, studying her. ''You take such an issue with what I do. You're practically trembling with rage.''

Darcy realized that he was correct, her hands were balled tightly into fists and she was digging her fingernails sharply into her palms. Forcing herself to relax ever so slightly, she shot back ''Why shouldn't I be? You're hurting people!''

Retnick shook his head. ''No, dear girl, that's where you've got it wrong. _I_ am not doing anything to them. They've chosen this.''

Darcy thought of Z, chained to the wall, her hands helplessly reaching out. ''I really don't think so. Maybe that's what you tell yourself, but we both know its a lie.'' She narrowed her eyes at him and folded her arms.

''Anyone who does not wish to continue is free to leave at any time,'' Retnick answered evenly. ''Many have, over the years. Restoration is not a path for everyone, only the strong. Many weak people have come here and found that they were in the wrong place, and so, they left.''

''What happened to them?''

He shrugged. ''I'm not responsible for them once they _leave_.'' He fell silent for a moment, then said. ''Sometimes, what we want is not yet clear to us. But however much we try to deny it, we all want something.''

Darcy had never been inside the leader's personal study before. She let her eyes travel around the room for a moment while she considered how to respond to his last statement. But once the painting on the wall caught her eye she couldn't speak at first, only stare. Retnick noticed her looking at it, and gave a sigh. ''As yes. That was painted by another old friend of mine. Joe Haven—I'm sure that Montauk has told you about him-was quite the artist. Used to drag that damned sketchbook everywhere. Painted landscapes and nonsense until he met that woman—was utterly smitten by her. And then, she was all he ever wanted to capture—on canvas, and otherwise. He was obsessed, you see. She came from a very wealthy family, whereas Joe certainly did not and so he felt that he wasn't worthy of her. But she loved him very deeply nonetheless. Her parents certainly did not approve though, and so they had to carry on their rendezvous in secret. They planned to run away to Paris and marry.'' Retnick stared at the floor.

_Oh my god_... Darcy thought silently as she stared disbelievingly at the painting, at the very familiar face of Joe Haven's lover. _Helen_.


	9. Chapter 9

**Hey loves! Thank you for your reviews! Yes, the plot has indeed thickened and as you will see it is only going to get stranger from here on out, because I am diabolical like that, haha! ;) But you guys know that there is always a method to my madness, so please hang on and enjoy the ride!**

* * *

_I am the key to the lock in your house_

_That keeps your toys in the basement_

_And if you get too far inside_

_You'll only see my reflection_

**-Radiohead**

**SHIELD**

''I pulled those old case files you asked for, ma'am,'' Andrews said, walking into the office where the Black Widow was seated at a desk. After the events of the previous year, the young lab tech had been promoted and was now the assassin's personal assistant of sorts. She'd requested that he go searching for more missing person cases that could potentially be linked to the Restored Ones. ''And I also found something else that might be very interesting.'' The redhead raised her eyebrows at Andrews, motioned for him to continue. He took a deep, shaky breath and did so. ''In 1988, a motorist saw a young girl stumble out of the woods near where that cult is now. She was incredibly disoriented but managed to tell a very odd tale. Claimed that she'd 'fallen asleep in the forest' and gotten separated from her friends.''

''So?'' asked Natasha.

''So, after I did some digging I found out that she was a match to a much older cold case—girl went missing in the exact same area in 1953 after she'd wandered off from a group on a school picnic. She'd been presumed dead.''

''A pattern, maybe? A similar disappearance?''

''No ma'am. A _match._''

''Wait...'' the Black Widow said slowly, disbelievingly.

Andrews nodded. ''It was the same girl. She hadn't aged a day.''

Natasha was very quiet for a moment, then asked, ''Where is she now?''

''Psychiatric clinic upstate, near Syracuse,'' he answered.

''Let's go pay her a visit.''

* * *

''I'm telling you, Helen's portrait is in Retnick's study. She was supposed to get married to Joe Haven, that's why she was in Paris, they were going to run away together!'' Darcy was talking so quickly that she could barely breathe. After seeing the portrait on the wall, she'd quickly excused herself from the conversation that she'd begun with the leader and had run upstairs.

''Slow down, love!'' Loki ordered, putting his hands on her arms and holding her still. She quieted a moment and took a deep breath, forced her buzzing mind to calm. ''That's better,'' he said more gently. ''Now, what's going on?''

''I went to talk to Retnick.''

Loki's lips set in a line. ''Why?''

Darcy took another deep breath, then answered gravely, ''Because I found Penelope. And Z. And all of the other people who were Restored.''

''What do you mean?'' He leaned a little closer to her. ''Where are they?''

''Out in the woods. That's where he takes them for the final ritual. And if it works, that's where he keeps them. They're...they're not really human anymore.'' She winced at the memory. ''Retnick doesn't know that I know. But...I've been talking to the gardener. His name is Ethan Montauk, and he's immortal too. He's an old friend of Retnick's, they were soldiers together during World War Two. He told me all about how this started.''

''I see.'' Loki's expression was blank. ''And how did it start?''

''Retnick had an adopted daughter named Anna-Lily,'' explained Darcy, skipping around the part where the girl's disembodied spirit occasionally appeared to her. ''She died when she was very young. And then he started collecting old grimoires and practicing some really dark magic. He wanted to find the secret to immortality. I guess he must have found it, or at least part of it. There was a man named Joe Haven, he was friends with Ethan and Retnick. Joe apparently had part of a book with some kind of secret incantations or whatever that Lugh needed, but he wanted to keep it for himself. Because he was in love with a woman, and he wanted them to be together forever. That woman was Helen. I recognized her from the portrait that he painted—Retnick kept it for some reason.''

Loki mulled this all over silently for a moment, then said, ''First, we need to figure out what was in those books—and especially what was in those missing pages.''

''Shouldn't we contact SHIELD?'' Darcy asked, almost hopefully. ''Those people chained up out there—that has to be enough to convict Retnick of something.''

''Possibly, but I still think that we should wait,'' he answered. ''SHIELD isn't going to be able to do a damn thing for those people. At best they'll be turned into experiments for awhile, and then eliminated. Also, Retnick knows who we're working for, and so he's probably going to be expecting us to contact them. I say we wait, at least a few more days.'' Loki paused, then asked, ''Why didn't you tell me this before?'' There was a tone to his voice that Darcy didn't quite like, a disappointed edge, brushed with irritation.

''You didn't tell me what happened when you had _your_ little chat with Retnick,'' she shot back.

''Yes, but I also didn't go wandering in the woods alone! What if something had happened?'' Loki's green eyes lit with a small flare.

''What was going to happen? They're literally locked in cells!''

''_They_ might not be the only thing out there!'' he practically yelled. Darcy narrowed her eyes at him, took a step back. ''What do you mean by that?'' she asked, crossing her arms.

Loki forced himself to calm down. He didn't understand why he'd suddenly blown up like that, and he could tell by the look on her face that Darcy wasn't pleased at all. And she had every right to feel that way. It was true—he hadn't told her everything that he'd learned right away either, and it wasn't as if she was deliberately keeping secrets. The god just hated the idea that she might be putting herself in harm's way, hated himself for not being there to protect her all the time, despised himself for allowing this place to get some sort of weird hold on him.

''Cloud told me that there's 'something strange out in the woods,' something that won't let you leave,'' he explained in a softer voice.

''What is it?''

''She didn't say.''

''I've _been _in those woods. Yeah, they're creepy as hell, but nothing happened to me except a major panic attack when I realized what he's been hiding out there.''

''Yes, but you didn't try to _leave_.''

Darcy suddenly remembered what Retnick had told her, about how Restoration wasn't for everyone, how over the years many had left. She abruptly felt very tired.

''What the hell is really going on around here?'' she asked, sinking down onto the bed.

''I don't know,'' he replied.

* * *

When Darcy headed back downstairs again later there was someone in the parlour that she had never seen before—an older, slightly round woman with blonde hair. She looked a little like the three girls from the kitchen, but her face was slightly more mobile—she seemed more _human._ As she bustled around, she hummed, hummed that abysmally familiar tune. _Oh dear, what can the matter be..._

When she noticed Darcy, she straightened up with a smile. ''Hello there,'' she said. Her eyes were indeed that same pale blue as the other women, but reacted normally to the light.

''Hello...'' Darcy replied carefully. Then, hoping that she didn't sound rude, she asked, ''Who are you, if you don't mind me asking?''

''No, dear, I don't mind at all,'' the woman replied cheerfully. ''My name is Mary, I'm the housekeeper.''

''I'm Lucy.'' Darcy was still using the fake name even though she wondered what the point in that was. ''I haven't seen you before.''

Mary kept smiling. ''Well, it's a very large house,'' she offered with a light shrug of her round shoulders. ''Lots of cobwebs and dust and places to hide.'' There was a bit of a loopy quality to her voice and demeanour that made Darcy wonder if she was altogether sane. The woman turned then and busied herself with cleaning the room. The house was very quiet, except for the sound of the broom scratching along the wooden floor. Darcy headed into the dining room again, she wanted to get another look at those stained glass windows, particularly the one with the eye inside of the tree trunk. _There's a strange tree, far off in the field, _Helen had said, back in Paris. _Blood on the branches, blood in the soil._ The ghost's words held a new and far more ominous weight given that now she was somehow a part of this mystery as well. She hadn't wanted them to come here. She had cried for days. But Darcy had insisted, and she was definitely beginning to regret that decision.

As Darcy stared at the window she heard the shuffling of Mary's feet as the housekeeper approached. She turned at the sound and was met with the woman's curious smile. ''Do the trees sing to you?'' she asked. Before Darcy could give a reply, Mary added, ''A tree does not choose its long life. It can only stand and grow and endure it, watching all the rest fade.'' And then she walked away without another word.

There was a definite feeling of unpleasantness cloaking the air, a kind of foreboding that made Darcy's stomach hurt a little. The whole house had grown more claustrophobic, the walls pressed in and breathed down her neck, waiting. She felt badly about her earlier conversation with Loki. Sure, they argued sometimes, any couple did—but she was aware that this was a time when they needed to be on the same page. And it seemed like ever since they had arrived they would fall strangely in and out of sync with each other in very polarising extremes. They'd have those weird moments when they would be drawn together in a powerful whirlwind, prompted by that intense feeling of longing that would come crashing out of nowhere. And then when those times ended he began to slip away. There was something bothering Loki, she could tell. He was starting to look more tired than usual, was growing too quiet.

And Darcy still wasn't sure how to feel about seeing Helen's portrait, either. That was most certainly _not_ a coincidence, and it wasn't entirely comforting, either. Once again, it seemed that they were too close to what was going on, too much a part of the madness. Was this going to be their life from now on? Were she and Loki both doomed to be caught up in a web of supernatural power-struggles for the rest of their days? Darcy was beginning to feel like this was her fault. After all, she'd been the one who wanted to leave Paris. And where had it gotten them? 'Smack in the middle of a gothic horror novel, that's where,' she grumbled as she pushed open the door and walked outside.

Darcy found Ethan Montauk standing in the side garden again, frowning down at the mess of dead flowers all around his feet. ''It doesn't seem to matter what I do,'' he said wearily, scooping them up, their pale roots dangling sadly like weak strings. ''This earth grows more and more cursed every day.'' He noticed her standing there, offered one of his fleeting, lopsided grins, though now it looked more like a grimace than ever. ''You know, you can talk to Retnick until you're blue in the face, and nothing will ever change. Trust me. You'll only grow frustrated. He's gotten more stubborn over the years.''

''What's out in the woods?'' Darcy asked him. He raised an eyebrow in response. ''I'm not talking about the prison,'' she added. ''You know what I mean. There's something else, isn't there?''

His expression remained unchanged. ''They say that if you walk far enough, beyond the tree, there is a place where time stops. And you slip inside the forest's dream, out of reality, never to be seen or heard from again. I've heard mad tales, but then again...'' Ethan trailed off. ''This land is so old. Of course it's haunted. Of course it would know more than you or I. There's been all kinds of things in these woods.''

* * *

Cloud was nowhere to be found. She disappeared some time in the early evening. Darcy knew that the girl had been talking with Jason an hour or so before, and so she sought out the young man. ''Have you seen Cloud?'' she asked him. He stared at her in that annoying way that he had and then slowly shook his head. She let out a grunt of frustration and hurried out of the room and up the long flight of stairs. She knew that the young woman's bedroom was near the opposite end of the hallway. She knocked at the door, but there was no answer. After a moment she tried the knob. It turned, allowing her into the room. Darcy let out a gasp at what she found. Cloud wasn't there, but the walls of the room were literally covered in slashes of writing done with a heavy marker, some in English, some in another language that Darcy didn't know, but the script looked similar to something she'd seen in Loki's book on magickal alphabets. The words in English made very little sense, they said ''_Come and be well in the Palace of Souls''_.

With a shaking hand, Darcy pulled out her phone and snapped a few pictures of the room for later reference. She noticed that the window was slightly open, the curtain rustling in the breeze. On the desk there sat a stack of books which included a printed out copy of 'her' thesis. Atop that sat a folded note, held down in place with a small paperweight. Moving closer, Darcy noticed that the note said ''Lucy'' on the top. Curious, she removed the paperweight and opened the note.

_Dear Lucy,_

_By the time you read this, I'll be gone. Don't bother trying to look for me. I already know that I'll never be found. This is the way that it has to be. I know that you're not who you said that you were, but thank you for being so nice to me, whoever you are. Please stay out of the woods. Tell William not to dream._

Darcy read the letter over several times, then refolded it and put it in her pocket, head spinning. ''No,'' she whispered out loud into the empty room with its ruined walls. ''No!'' She hurried out, shutting the door firmly behind her. Practically sprinting down the stairs, she found herself once again impetuously on her way to barge into Retnick's office. There was no need, however—she caught the leader as he was walking down the hall. Darcy gripped his arm and he turned, glaring down at her.

''Where's Cloud?'' she demanded frantically.

''She ran,'' he answered in a stony voice. ''She wasn't strong enough for Restoration.''

''What the hell does that mean? What did you _do_ to her?''

''As I told you before, I didn't do anything. Once she leaves, she's no longer my problem. She belongs to the forest now.'' He looked paler again, lean and hungry.

As she moved absently through the room with a broom in her hand, Mary the housekeeper chuckled, a strangely hollow sound. ''Little lambs, lost in the woods,'' she sing-songed. ''Running, running through the darkness.''

Retnick wrenched his arm from Darcy's grip and turned once again and stalked away down the hall.

Feeling impotent with rage, Darcy dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands and then, unable to help herself, let out a small shriek and swept her hand through the air. The contents of the mantelpiece—a small antique clock and several vases-were violently tossed across the room with the force of the telekinetic energy and shattered on the floor.

Mary barely even blinked at this, just sighed and dragged her broom over. ''And I'd just got done cleaning this room...'' she muttered.

Darcy sucked in a breath, forced her hands to stop shaking. Turning, her stomach turned over icily as she noticed Jason lurking in the doorway, watching the scene with a great bit of interest, as he had the night that the Well had possessed her during the Circle.

* * *

Loki was dreaming. It was night, a black and moonless night. He was outside, standing right by the path that led into the woods. At first there was no sound, only the light rustling of the tree branches. Then, off in the distance he heard a faint sound, the crying of an infant. The crying grew louder and he began to follow in the direction of the noise, passing under the dark canopy of leaves. His stomach turned over as he saw that there was a baby lying on the ground, naked except for a ragged blanket. It screamed and batted its hands in the air. He noticed that the child was covered in blood, blood that thankfully seemed to belong to someone else. Not knowing what else to do, he reached down and picked up the shrieking baby. Loki turned to leave, to head back the way that he had come, but soon realized with a cold slash of fear that the path had disappeared, everything looked exactly the same and he was disoriented. Lost.

Then there came a rustling sound and he turned with the child in his arms to see Cloud standing there amid the darkness. There seemed to be some kind of light behind her, deeper in the woods. It gave a small amount of illumination to the space. To her left stood a little girl wearing a gray dress and red shoes. The little girl said nothing, just stared ahead. The look on Cloud's face was sad, vacant. She reached her hand out to Loki. ''It's alright,'' she said. ''It's all alright, now. Come and be well in the Palace of Souls.''

* * *

Darcy suddenly felt a jolt of fear pass through her, hard and mean as a hammer against her skull. A temporary wave of dizziness overcame her and she felt her hands grow cold. Then came a kind of tearing sensation as if something was trying to pull away a part of her. Nearly numb with terror, she bolted up the stairs as fast as she could, though she was slowed by the overwhelming panic so acute that it was physically painful. She staggered down the hallway until she reached the door to their room. She reached out and turned the knob, but it didn't open. _What the hell..._

She didn't have time for this. Something was happening, something terrible. She felt as if someone was trying to rip her soul in half. Extending her hand, she concentrated as hard as she could and sent out a pulse of telekinetic energy directly at the doorknob, which was abruptly blown clean off of the wood. The door swung open creakingly. Loki was lying on the bed, asleep—yet it looked like he was having some kind of a night terror, he was muttering and thrashing again. _Tell William not to dream. _

Now Darcy was certain that it was time to be afraid, something was definitely awake and aware inside this house and it wasn't friendly, and it wasn't going to leave them alone, Vessels or not. ''Loki!'' she yelled, sprinting over and climbing onto the bed. She gripped his shoulders, tried to hold him still. ''Loki, _wake up_!'' At first he didn't seem to respond so she clamped her hands down on the sides of his head and spoke directly into his mind, practically screaming. _Wake up now!_

It took half a moment but then he blinked his eyes open foggily. ''Darcy?''

''What is happening to you?'' she asked in a hushed voice, her blood running icy with worry.

''I don't know,'' he replied honestly. Loki felt like he'd been brushing the edges of something horrible. ''I was dreaming. Though I don't really recall falling asleep. I was...walking in the woods. I heard a child crying, found an abandoned infant covered in blood so I picked it up. Then...I saw Cloud. She was standing next to a little girl. She wanted me to come with her, to someplace called the Palace of Souls.''

Darcy had now grown very, very pale. ''Was the little girl wearing a gray dress?'' she asked softly. Loki nodded. Pulling out her cell phone, she showed him the picture that she'd taken earlier, the writing on the wall. ''Cloud is gone. Retnick said that she 'ran,' because she wasn't strong enough.''

''What is the Palace of Souls?'' Loki wondered grimly.

''I think that's where she is now,'' replied Darcy. ''I've had enough. I don't care what you say—this shit ends now.'' She pulled out her cell phone to call Natasha on the secure number that the Black Widow had provided. If they ran into trouble she was supposed to call, let it ring twice, then hang up. Her eyes narrowed and her heart plummeted as she opened her list of contacts. It was empty. Every saved number in her phone had been erased. ''What the fuck...'' She looked at the lack of bars on the home screen and realized that she had no service anymore, either. ''All right, it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter,'' Darcy chanted to herself in a wavering voice. ''Let's just get the hell out of here.'' Loki nodded in agreement. They grabbed a few necessary items and then quietly headed down the stairs. ''Where's the car?'' she whispered to him.

''It should still be parked around the side by the front entrance,'' he replied.

''Let's hope so.''

Unfortunately, before they could make the foyer, Retnick appeared, an uncomfortable smile on his face. ''If I might have a word with the two of you in private,'' he said. Loki and Darcy looked sideways at each other. ''Alright,'' Loki answered, taking her hand and squeezing it reassuringly. They followed the leader down the hall to his study. Darcy mentally steeled herself to fight if she had to, recalling every defensive spell that Loki had taught her.

Retnick firmly shut the door and then turned to face them. ''The walls have ears,'' he said. ''But not in this room. I've made sure of that.'' He narrowed his eyes. ''Whatever you both think that you know, you're miles off target. I'm a very _old_ man and generally I don't like surprises. And you two have surprised me. See, anyone else wouldn't have lasted this long. They would have called back to headquarters and had a swat team here within two days of arriving and then we would all have had a very large mess on our hands. But you're different. And in this place, unfortunately, that tends to attract a bit of attention from some. I must admit,'' he added, ''you are a most intriguing pair. I'm so happy to see that people like you exist, it makes me feel _saner._''

Retnick leaned down close to Darcy's face, looked right into her eyes with a long and very cold stare.''A long life...'' he muttered. ''You have no idea how long it can actually be. Your heart is going to break over and over again until you force yourself to turn to stone. This is how you create a bitter and vengeful goddess. Stones and water and death by the sea. I've been around for a very long time too.'' He gave them both a faraway look, he seemed to have slipped into one of his odd twilight-moments, those times when he became like a dreamy and forgetful old man teetering on the borders of delirium.

''Borrowed time,'' sneered Loki.

Retnick glared pointedly at him. ''It's all borrowed time, my dear boy.''

''You drain the life from innocent people and funnel it so that you can live forever,'' Darcy snapped at the leader. ''That's more than borrowing. It's _murder_.''

''Maybe others died so that you could live forever too!'' Retnick spat. ''You little hypocrite. Nothing comes free. But for my part I took nothing that wasn't offered willingly.''

So he was still singing that tired song. ''Those bodies buried in the woods, the ones that were found,'' Darcy demanded bluntly. ''What...what were they?''

He stared out the window, a revolted frown dragging down the corners of his mouth.''Those that died during the final ritual. They were grotesque. Weak. Vessels that could not hold.''

''You mean you didn't get to suck out their life force? Oh, how sad for you!'' Darcy knew that she was treading on dangerous ground with her sarcastic attitude, but she was too far past the point of caring. ''What are you going to do with the Restorations that work?'' she asked Retnick pointedly. ''Your prison is getting full.''

A weak half-smile, half-sneer ghosted across his face.''That is not for you to worry about, my dear.''

''You need to stop calling things through whatever door you've got open,'' spoke up Loki. His tone was matter of fact as he attempted to reason with the leader. ''You know this land has a very dangerous energy to it, it's amplifying the work that you do. But it's going to pull that portal open wider and wider and then not even you will be able to control what happens. These...beings, or gods, or whatever you call them—they won't just be sliding througb one at a time and giving you life forces in exchange for bodies. They won't have any need for you as middle man anymore.''

''The way I do things now can sometimes be unpleasant but necessary,'' Retnick answered. ''I am very careful. And I am, at the core of it, performing a service to the universe, to the gods and mortals both. We are cursed beings but we can be made stronger. They can help us.''

''They're turning people into monsters—this isn't supposed to happen, it's against nature!'' Darcy cried.

He rounded on her furiously. ''Who are _you_ to tell me about nature? Oh you are a curious abomination,'' he hissed.

''You conjured things that you had no business conjuring, all because you wanted power over life and death. You used those people as bait.''

''It was their desire,'' he said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

''What gives you the right to decide that?'' she practically shrieked.

''Uppity little miss,'' Retnick chuckled, shaking his head. ''You both really should run along, you're of no use to me now. Wasted Vessels.'' He looked at them with an offensively pitying gaze. ''Thank you for your interest.'' He waved his hand at Loki and Darcy and suddenly it felt as though they had been lifted up and thrown violently against a brick wall, and then everything crashed into darkness.


End file.
